Wandering Hearts
by Shenachie
Summary: A member of the wandering Maharial tribe suddenly finds more in her world than previously dreamt of in her philosophy.
1. The First Step

_Author's Note - This is my first attempt to use this site so I apologize if I have royally screwed anything up and hope you will be kind to the new kid on the block. I tried to preserve as much dialogue and description as I could but I did wind up adding a few comments and altering some appearances._

_Perfectionism is a terrible thing._

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns DragonAge and all related materials – and most of the dialogue. I am simply grateful they allow others to play in their world._

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**Wandering Hearts **

**Chapter One - The First Step**

"It's a Dalish!" the goateed young man exclaimed from the ground where he had slid to an ignominious stop on his behind. The other two men staggered to a halt next to their clumsy friend, sides heaving as they gasped for breath.

"And you three are somewhere you shouldn't be," Tamlen coolly observed. His grip on the bow tightened as his fingers on the taut bowstring itched.

"Let us pass, elf. You've no right to stop us," the taller, red-haired man announced while the third man helped the bearded one to his feet.

"Oh no?" Tamlen warned, "We'll just see about that, won't we?" His keen ears picked up the sound of soft footsteps quickly approaching. He recognized his clanmate's scent and added in a warmer tone, "You're just in time. I found these humans lurking in the bushes. Bandits, no doubt."

Kaslyn allowed only one corner of her mouth to lift in a tiny, amused smile as she joined her friend in the small clearing. Her bow was equally tense and trained on the three interlopers. Tamlen had 'found' the humans because she had subtly herded their wild flight through the forest towards him with a couple of well-placed arrows.

"We aren't bandits," the red-haired man insisted, "Please don't hurt us."

"You shems are pathetic," Tamlen sneered, "It's hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland."

"We've done nothing to you, Dalish," said the third man with short dark hair, "W-we didn't even know this forest was yours."

"This forest isn't ours, fool," Tamlen replied with disdain, "You've stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin, we can't trust you not to make mischief."

Kaslyn knew that to be all too true. They were simple, yet unfortunately effective, ploys. Humans stirred up trouble with their neighbors then blamed any Dalish who happened to be in the area. 'Dalish bandits' usually turned out to be human youths who had marked their faces and wore helmets or hoods to disguise their ears. Humans also occasionally tried to antagonize the Dalish directly for who would the wandering elves turn to for justice? Kaslyn did not think these three humans had any idea where her people's camp was but that did not mean they were not capable of making trouble for her clan.

"What do you say, lethallan? What should we do with them?" Tamlen deliberately caused his bow to creak, letting her know what his opinion was.

"Let's find out what they're doing here," she responded, even though she knew her clanmate would likely be annoyed by her curiosity. These humans had been fleeing recklessly through the woods even before she had come across them, and she had questions why.

"Does it matter?" Tamlen scoffed, "Hunting or banditry, we'll need to move camp if we let them live." His grip tightened again on the bow. Really, he thought with some exasperation, did she have to investigate every little detail about even the simplest and most obvious situations?

"L-look, we didn't come here to make trouble," the goateed man spoke up, "we just found a cave…."

"Yes!" Red-hair quickly jumped in, "with ruins like I've never seen! We thought there might be …"

"Treasure?" Tamlen interrupted derisively. "So you're more akin to thieves than actual bandits."

"Ha!" Kaslyn abetted, "I'd like to see these ruins!"

"So would I," Tamlen agreed dryly. "I've never heard of any ruins in these parts."

"I-I have proof!" Red-hair fumbled in a pouch on his belt under the watchful gaze of the two elves and produced a small stone carving. "We found this just inside the entrance!" He hesitantly offered them a small figurine.

Kaslyn started to relax her bowstring to take the stone but Tamlen beat her to it. He wasn't about to let these idiots any closer to her than absolutely necessary. While his clanmate continued to cover them with her bow, he scrutinized the small statue. It was a woman with antlers like a halla, the moon under her right foot, and two hares beside her. The base of the statue was covered in strangely familiar writing and his eyes widened. "Is this Elvish? Written Elvish?" he exclaimed with surprise.

Keeping the majority of her attention on the humans, Kaslyn glanced over at him with some interest.

Sensing they might have bought their freedom, Red-hair offered, "There's more in the ruins! We didn't get very far in though."

"Why not?" Kaslyn asked sharply.

"There was a demon!" the human answered, clearly overawed. "It was huge with black eyes! Thank the Maker we were able to outrun it!"

The elves exchanged another quick glance. Finding a cave with elven artifacts could be quite an important discovery for the Dalish who were always seeking any lost lore on their people. Still, they were cautious, and in this case, suspicious. Their clan and others had been in this area before and would have made note of any landmarks like a cave. Tamlen tucked the figure in his belt pouch then drew his bow and arrow on the humans again.

"A demon?" Tamlen asked skeptically, "Where is this cave?"

"T-to the west, I think." Red-hair stammered. "There's a cave in the rock face and a huge hole just inside…."

"Well?" Tamlen asked his clanmate, "Do you trust them? Should we let them go?" He caused his bow to flex threateningly again.

"You've frightened them enough," she replied. She let her tense bowstring down then added firmly in the humans' direction, "They won't bother us."

Somewhat disappointed, Tamlen hesitated a moment longer then relented as well. He still held the bow and arrow loosely as he told the humans, "Run along then, shems," he said dismissively, then warned, "And don't come back until we Dalish have moved on!"

"O-of course! Thank you! Thank you!" Red-hair said as he gestured for his friends to leave with him. They hurried off through the bushes, more or less in the direction of their village.

At least it was away from the camp and the cranky Dalish, Kaslyn reflected. They put away their weapons and she looked at Tamlen thoughtfully.

He caught sight of her appraisal and, knowing something was on her mind, arched an inquisitive blond eyebrow in return.

"You judge humans too harshly," she finally ventured.

"You are too soft," Tamlen snapped, "how many injustices must our people suffer before you learn to resent them properly?"

Kaslyn frowned and looked away from him. They'd had this conversation before – many times. Kaslyn had never blamed current humans for the sins of the past. The Elvhen people had been slaves in the land of Tevinter many centuries ago. This was Ferelden. Though some of their race – called 'flat-ears' by some Dalish - might still live in cities with humans, that was their own choice. The Dalish were no one's slaves anymore, and she believed that anything the humans did to them was here and now. In fact, unlike the other elves, she rarely even used the derogatory 'shemlen' – 'quicklings' - term when referring to humans. "There are good and bad humans just like there are good and bad elvhen," she quietly remarked.

Tamlen sighed. He was as aware of their previous stalemates on this topic as she was. He was not looking to fight with her now though. It was a beautiful day, the sun was out, and the forest was cool and crisp with the usual scents and sounds. He was secretly delighted Kaslyn had been the one to show up when he discovered the bumbling shems. He spent another few moments admiring her fiery red hair burning in the dappled sunlight, then in an effort to make peace, cleared his throat to get her attention. She looked back at him and they exchanged uncomfortable expressions before simultaneously muttering, "Abelas, lethallen." The mutual apology caused them both to grin at each other and Tamlen suggested in a friendlier tone, "Well, shall we see if there is anything to their story? These carvings make me curious!"

His cool blue eyes twinkled at her from under his short, light-wheaten hair, and she indulged in a moment of admiration for the way the graceful curves of his vallaslin emphasized his attractive features. His handsome face and strong hunter's build easily made him too appealing for her own good but she was not about to let him know that – at least not yet. She nonchalantly replied, "Sounds like a good idea."

"And if we find anything, the Keeper will want to know!" he added, well-pleased. Her indifferent tone had not fooled him: he knew how curious she could be. Kaslyn laughed and shook her head at him, melting his heart and any lingering annoyance. She knew him well, too: he always enjoyed attention. She had just apparently never figured out he especially enjoyed _her_ attention.

"You're not fooling me, Tam," she grinned mischievously, using the nicknames kept between themselves ever since they were small children and noticed they had similar-sounding names.

Tamlen felt his heart flutter in his chest and caught himself before he could tumble into her lovely clear-blue eyes. Those expressive eyes and her wildly wavy, red hair, coupled with a lithe, sun-kissed figure, made for a striking combination. By the Creators, she was _so_ beautiful, he thought. He shrugged and his grin widened in response as he admitted, "And if I were to bring some valuable ancestral artifact back to the Keeper, she might forgive me for … well, you know."

"I don't see why you got into trouble," she sympathized, "we were both brawling."

"Because I got caught and wouldn't give up any names," he reminded her with a wink. Even after all these years, they were still true to an unspoken, childhood promise to look out for each other. He knew she sometimes thought he could take it a bit too far, being a year or two older than her. Age had nothing to do with his protective instincts around her though.

She remembered the incident. They had been visiting a neighboring Dalish clan on some errand the day before yesterday and words had been exchanged. One of the other clan members – a lean, brown-skinned hunter with tightly-braided, reddish hair, she recalled – had made some disparaging remark about immature hunters who hadn't braved their vallaslin. Kaslyn, to whom the comment had obviously been directed, had her reasons for not having her face traditionally tattooed yet and, unconcerned about what anyone else thought, she took no offense. Tamlen did. He knocked the guy flat. The other elf's clanmates leaped in to help and Kaslyn joined the scuffle, defending her impetuous friend's back. They were outnumbered but holding their own when an authoritative shout went up and the other fighters abruptly scattered. Kaslyn had wanted to stay with Tamlen to explain and take her share of the blame but he had pushed her away and ordered her to run. His expression had been fierce and she had reluctantly obeyed. She had not told him but her conscience had nagged at her, and she had later gone alone and privately confessed to their own Keeper Marethari her part in the incident. "Thank you for covering for me by the way," she told him shyly.

"Of course," he answered easily then added, "You know I'd do anything for you, Kas." He was rewarded for this admission with one of her sweet smiles and felt his cheeks start to warm. He hid his pleasure by turning and gesturing for her to precede him on the trail. They had hunted together often – as often as they could actually – and had developed their own, mostly silent, communication. He looked back when she did not immediately take point.

"How did you know that was Elvish, Tam?"

He shrugged, "I've seen something similar on the Keeper's scrolls." He pulled out the figure and handed it to her. "See for yourself."

She accepted the statue and examined it carefully. Absently she nodded then offered the carving back to him but he indicated she should carry it and looked around while she put it away. He was startled when he felt her fingers boldly brush his cheek, feather-light, as she went by him. He grinned happily to himself and started after her. Quickly falling into the ground-eating lope of experienced Dalish hunters, they headed in the direction the humans had indicated. Tamlen never minded following Kaslyn. She was as sharp as the two dar'misus she carried along with her bow, and, he admitted privately, he was free to admire the view without her knowledge. A smile tugged on his mouth as his eyes lingered on the sway of her hips and the bounce of her tailed hair. Oh, how he wanted to run his hands through that thick, red mane. They had never really spoken about their feelings for each other, but there had been enough such subtle gestures exchanged that he felt she _might_ favor him over the other young bucks in the clan. Just so long as she didn't wind up with that fumble-fingered idiot, Fenarel, he vowed to himself.

She stopped abruptly, tense, testing their surroundings. Instantly he followed suit. He saw nothing but peaceful forest and caught nothing amiss on the breeze or in the immediate sounds around them but fitted an arrow to his drawn bow when he saw her doing so. He heard a faint snarl and two wolves suddenly bounded out of the hollow ahead and charged right at them. Kaslyn had always had a sense for and a way with animals, he thought proudly, and it had served her well again.

Kaslyn murmured an apology for taking their lives before letting fly with her first feathered shaft. She did not like to kill wolves. She had baffled her people by spending an entire year observing any nearby packs and had been intrigued by what she had learned from them. There was something about their behavior and pack mentality that reminded her much of her clan and how they worked together and supported each other. Still, if she was attacked, Kaslyn would fight until her opponent gave up or she was victorious.

Coolly both elves fired on the two, cunning wolves. When the beasts came too close, Kaslyn clipped the bow back to her weapon harness and drew her dar'misus while Tamlen continued to fire. He briefly wondered if he should grab his own sword and shield but one wolf lay dead and she had already engaged the other, teasing it with her flickering knife-work so it presented a broad profile for him to target. Two arrows later and the second wolf lay dead beside the first. Shouldering his bow, Tamlen quickly looked Kaslyn over for any injuries but despite having closed with the animal, she had been too quick for it and was unscathed. They retrieved any usable arrows before turning their attentions to the dead wolves. After thanking the spirits for their gifts, they quickly and expertly skinned the carcasses.

"Hey," Tamlen asked after they finished and put away their blades, "Weren't you supposed to be assisting Master Varathorn today? How did you end up coming with me?"

Kaslyn shrugged and absently replied, "You know me. I get away from camp whenever I can."

"I've never known anyone so eager to wander," he shook his head then teased, "I bet you'll end up a flat-ear someday, living in the cities like a shem."

"You take that back!" Kaslyn demanded with a scowl, punching his bare upper arm between the shoulder and elbow armor.

Tamlen laughed and cringed away from her temper. She started after him but instead of retreating further, he boldly caught her wrist, gently twisting it around behind her waist, and pinned her against him. "Or what?" he dared her. Their leather breastplates were between them and although Kaslyn's midriff was bare, his bracers prevented any skin-to-skin contact – but it was a delightfully near thing.

Eyes sparkling with mischief and affection, Kaslyn murmured, "Don't make me get … inappropriate with you…."

Tamlen chuckled again and replied in a similar tone, "Is that a promise or a threat, lethallan?"

She cocked her head and her own saucy eyebrow at him. In response he pulled her even closer for a second before they mutually relented and parted before anything any more awkward might occur. She eyed him suggestively from under the disheveled bangs over her eyes and remarked, "I got out of it. I prefer to hunt."

He smirked at her dual meaning and agreed, "Me, too, even if you are a better hunter than I am."

"It's not the _quantity_ of shots, it's the _quality_ of shots," she reminded him sweetly and he grinned. Although she teased him about wasting so many arrows, she hoped he would someday teach her that rapid-fire technique he had. That reminded her of something, and looking at him, she abruptly said, "Switch bows with me."

"What?" He asked, "Why?"

"Because I obviously need more lead time to aim and your longbow has greater range than this shortbow," she answered easily.

Too easy, Tamlen thought. Anyone, who didn't know Kaslyn as well as he liked to think he did, wouldn't think twice about her answer, but he suspected there was more to it than she was letting on – just like he hoped there was more to her being with him instead of merely sliding out of duties with the crafters back in camp. "But you're skilled enough to use a shortbow and shortbows shoot faster," he reminded her.

"But not as far," she repeated.

There was something decidedly off about her logic but Tamlen shrugged and did as he was asked. Longbows were generally for those who were likely to miss a few shots and to give them plenty of time to slay the quarry from a safe distance. Shortbows were usually assigned to those skilled enough to take down their target with the fewest arrows and Kaslyn was one of the best. He was also firmly convinced that she could talk anybody into doing anything she wanted – or maybe it was just him.

She smiled as they exchanged bows and thanked him, adding, "Besides, you can't throw away as many arrows since your target has to get closer." Her smile widened, "and I like longbows better."

Tamlen laughed. "Ha! Finally the truth comes out!"

They stowed the raw pelts, shared a quick drink of water, and then agreed to resume their search for the alleged cave. A short distance from where the wolves attacked them, they discovered the remains of a dead halla. A quick inspection revealed that the ivory-colored elk had been elderly and likely fairly easy prey for the two wolves. Still, Kaslyn wondered what had prompted them to attack so readily but she kept her questions to herself. Tamlen wouldn't know anymore than she did. She was distracted from her musings by her clanmate calling her name. He had found a half-buried old chest nearby but could not get the lid open. After a careful examination of the lock, Kaslyn pulled out a fine length of hooked metal she kept hidden in one of her bracers. Inserting the slender rod into the lock, she managed to trigger the mechanism to release the lid, revealing an old, iron dagger. Since both hunters were already armed well enough, Tamlen stuck it in his pack.

They continued westward, only pausing occasionally to snatch a handful of useful herb or two. When they started discovering overgrown, crumbling stone columns, they knew they were getting close to something and slowed their pace to proceed with greater caution. Warily investigating their surroundings, they discovered the broken columns becoming larger, and more obvious, and eventually leading to a large section of ground that appeared to have simply melted downward between several huge boulders. Soon they found the cavern the humans were blithering about.

"This must be the cave," Tamlen announced. "I don't recall seeing this before, do you?"

"No, I don't," Kaslyn answered. "Let's check it out."

"My thoughts exactly," he agreed with a wink. "With luck we'll find something that will make us clan heroes!"

Senses highly alert, they carefully made their way through the rough opening of the cave and descended into the gloom. The roof of the cavern had crumbled in places where large tree roots had pushed their way through. Where the stone ceiling had given way to the trees, sunlight streamed inside, providing dim but sufficient light for the two keen-eyed elves. Although they had never noticed this cave in this area before, the dirt that had spilled inside was not loose and had been settled for some time. Pausing to look for any tracks, they were surprised to discover that, although the three sets of human prints were clear, there was little in the way of wildlife traffic. They proceeded cautiously, and eventually found the rough, natural rock growing smoother before eventually becoming blocks of worked stone, and they paused at the edge where dirt met floor. The air smelled mostly of the earth obviously surrounding them but also of musty dampness and something else neither could readily identify. All was quiet around them.

"It… looks like the shem _was_ telling the truth," Tamlen murmured, "These ruins look more human than elven."

Kaslyn squinted into the shadows and spotted something hanging up near the ceiling. A large tree root had grown out of the wall on the right and happened to curve towards whatever the thing was. Nimbly swinging atop the root, she lightly balanced on it and discovered the object in question was a large cocoon. She was both curious and concerned about what might have spun a wrapping she now realized was the size of a large elf or a smallish human. A brief investigation through the fine threads yielded a few copper coins to drop in her pouch and Kaslyn returned to her clanmate so they could continue further.

They had no more than set foot onto the worked-stone floor when they discovered the web-spinners. Two, giant spiders suddenly dropped from the shadowed ceiling. Their bodies were easily as large as Tamlen's torso and each of their eight legs was as big around as one of his arms. Too close to effectively use her bow, Kaslyn snapped her hand at the nearest monster's many black eyes, temporarily surprising it long enough for her to snatch her daggers from her back and leap behind the thing. When its partner hesitated, the second spider also turned its attention on her and attempted to attack, but Kaslyn's maneuver had positioned the first monster between them. She made three quick, strategic cuts on the first spider, effectively killing it and turned for the second.

Tamlen had not been idle. Seeing his best friend beset simultaneously by the two horrors, he had been firing arrows at them as rapidly as he possibly could. His aim was lousy when he did so and, as she had teased him earlier, he could go through a lot of arrows quickly but he continued the barrage. The first spider died and the second turned towards him, but he kept firing with a grim smile. The monster had made a fatal mistake turning its back on Kaslyn. In seconds it was over. With a final sweep of both dar'misus, both spiders lay dead, legs constricted tightly into their grotesque bodies.

"We did it!" Tamlen exclaimed, relieved to see she was unhurt. Giant spiders were distinctly _not_ normal but the Brecilian Forest was known to be a strange place and he assuaged his lingering anxiety with the knowledge they had proven more than a match for the creatures.

Kaslyn put away her weapons, glad to see him unharmed and chagrined to find she was the one splattered with the bloody mess of battle. The immediate threat ended, they gathered any usable arrows and explored the rest of the chamber. It was clearly human-worked stone but some of the smaller pieces scattered about appeared to have been carved with more Elvish writings. The atmosphere was chill and oppressive as well as gloomy and both elves kept their voices hushed.

"This place makes me nervous," Tamlen quietly admitted.

"What do you think all this is?" Kaslyn asked

Tamlen replied, "I'm not sure. This looks like a very old human place. Why would they build this? And why would elven artifacts be here? Maybe some of our ancestors lived here - in caves like the dwarves." Hastily he added, "I'll stick to roaming the land, myself."

"This doesn't feel like anyone's home," Kaslyn pointed out. It was definitely an eerie place but she did not get the sense that anyone had _lived_ here.

"I don't know," Tamlen mused, "I have this odd sensation that we've … disturbed something, like we just walked into a dragon's lair…." He threw back his shoulders and stoutly announced, "Well, whatever it is, it won't stop me! A Dalish hunter fears nothing!"

Kaslyn's head slowly swiveled towards him with one eloquently arched eyebrow and Tamlen grinned impishly. Her eyes said it all.

They returned to their exploration of the ruins. Amidst a pile of rubble, Kaslyn found a heap of old bones with a few more copper coins scattered amongst the remains. Tamlen softly called her to his side where he had found an ancient chest. Kaslyn investigated and in moments the chest was unlocked. Inside they found a leather helmet that appeared to be in fairly good shape. Neither one cared to immediately put it on so it was added to her pack and they turned for the arched doorway on the western wall nearby. The pointed door opened onto a stone hallway that extended north and south. Dirt was spilled onto the floor where roots had broken through the roof and walls, stone ceiling tiles littered the ground, and large, rotting timbers were leaned against the walls in places. They looked around before Kaslyn tossed an inquiring glance back at Tamlen. He shrugged, so she chose to proceed to the left. The southern end of the hall performed a sharp turn west and the dark corner was suddenly illuminated by a torch magically flickering to life at their approach. The flames revealed a stone statue of a woman holding a bowl where the fire burned. Kaslyn walked up to the statue and studied it. She looked back over her shoulder at Tamlen who was examining another carving on the wall nearby and asked, "Do you think the Keeper will want to come here?"

"She takes any opportunity to gather elven lore," Tamlen mused, "When the clans come together, they exchange whatever they've found. She shouldn't come without hunters to guard her though. The air here feels so … sinister…," he added with a frown.

She could not argue with either the words or the sentiment and turned to follow the hall westward. Their soft leather boots made no sound on the cobbled floor but as they got closer to another arched door blocking the end of the corridor, they heard a scrabbling, hissing noise and exchanged concerned glances. They had never heard anything make noise like that, but the scents were the same as the spiders they had just dispatched, so they had some idea of what might be coming next. The door opened easily and immediately two enormous spiders rushed across the floor at them.

"Shoot them," Kaslyn calmly ordered before Tamlen could draw his sword and shield. Instead of pulling her own weapons, Kaslyn quickly knelt on the floor. He was a skilled archer and she was not worried about clearing his line of fire. She was, however, intent on disarming the pressure plate she had glimpsed just inside the doorway, before it killed one or both of them. There was no way, she knew, the trap would only kill the spiders. If the eight-legged monsters could trigger it, they would have likely already done so.

Tamlen quickly and steadily nocked, pulled, and released arrow after arrow at the oncoming creatures, anxiously keeping one eye on his clanmate as she manipulated something on the floor. He knew better than to question what she was doing. Kaslyn had a knack for spotting and disarming traps. Still, when the first spider got too close for his comfort, he put away his bow and grabbed his sword and shield. Hoping she was ready, he stepped forward with the battlecry, "For the Dales!" Immediately as he strode forward, there was a clacking noise. His shield came down between her and the spider just in time, and Kaslyn quickly rolled further inside the room, clearing the path for him, and drawing her dar'misus. In moments the two spiders at the door, and a third that had tried to ambush them, all lay dead.

"I will _never_ know how you always manage to spot these things," he said, scuffing his booted foot over the gore-slicked plate where he stood.

"I just try to pay attention," she replied modestly, pleased with his compliment and relieved they were both unhurt. It had been a close thing that she had managed to deactivate the trap just as he needed to come forward to meet the spider's rush. As ever, they had danced together very well. Quickly looking over the dead monsters, she found a few coppers stuck to the abdomen of one of them. She pried the coins loose and added them to the others in the small pouch at her waist. Individual Dalish did not need to carry money but it was useful for the clan crafters to trade and purchase supplies. She would turn these over to Master Ashalle or Master Ilen when they got back to camp. Looking around, the two hunters discovered this room was significantly larger than the first one they had entered, and contained a number of ancient sarcophagi along with more tree roots, rubble, and webbing. There were also several large holes in the walls that appeared to have no roots or other easily identifiable causes and the elves chose to avoid them in favor of the ruins they were already investigating. A large opening in the floor, spanned by some sort of grillwork which had either supported the stone tiles of the floor or had replaced them, was skirted after a fleeting glance in the pit below revealed nothing of interest. In the far southwestern corner, Kaslyn spied another person-sized cocoon hanging from the ceiling. There were no helpful means for her to climb up to it this time so she softly called Tamlen over to give her a boost. He cupped his hands and crouched then straightened with stiff arms when she stepped into his hands. Her thigh against his shoulder provided balance and he turned his head politely away from the kilt of her leather armor while she pried apart the tough spider threads. "So why did you want to come down here so badly?" Kaslyn asked him.

"Aren't you curious?" Tamlen replied with some surprise. She was usually the first into anything new. "We could be discovering our history! Minstrels will write songs about us!"

She tossed him a wry look which he did not see and pointed out, "I _am_ curious."

He shrugged the shoulder she leaned against and admitted, "At any rate, I wasn't expecting this place to … feel quite like this. Maybe this wasn't the best idea…."

Kaslyn glanced down at the top of his head and rolled her eyes. From the belt of this withered corpse she liberated two vials containing a faintly bluish liquid. She tapped his shoulder to indicate he could let go and dropped down right in front of him when he relaxed his hands. He took advantage of the opportunity to loosely encircle her with his strong arms.

"Steady there!" Tamlen remarked, and then asked, "Find anything interesting?"

Kaslyn did not mind his proximity but thought he was pushing his luck a little. She held up the two vials, necessitating they widen the distance between them, and explained, "Smells like lyrium potions. Merrill and the Keeper will be happy."

Tamlen recognized the maneuver and smirked as he showed her the deep mushrooms he had collected from some nearby rubble. They explored the large chamber further but other than webs, empty coffins, and broken stone, there was nothing else to see. Kaslyn tried her lockpicking skills on the western door that was across the room from the entry they had initially used, but either the lock was fouled or she simply did not have the skill to open it. She eyed Tamlen, waiting for a smart comment but he only grinned at her. "Maybe you can teach me how to do that sometime," he offered instead.

A third arched door to the north opened easily and Tamlen almost bumped into Kaslyn when she unexpectedly stopped in the doorway. Ahead of them was a short, narrow room that looked more like a brief hallway. On the right stood another carved woman with a flaming bowl held over a pile of bones on the floor in front of her pedestal. On the left a few large roots had forced their way through the wall along with a mound of dirt. At the far end was another door in the same pointed style as the rest they had seen so far.

"What?" he asked her.

"Too easy," she shook her head. She looked around the area then knelt to examine the floor again. A few seconds later he heard a clattering sound and Kaslyn stood up.

"Another one?" he asked in surprise and Kaslyn nodded and proceeded down the hall.

She left the pile of bones for him to investigate and cautiously approached the door at the far end. As she got closer another scratching, hissing noise echoed from the other side of the door but she did not let that distract her as her sense for danger alerted her to another barely-visible pressure plate. She spotted this one more easily, since she now had some ideas of what to look for, and disarmed it just as quickly. When she and Tamlen regrouped, he showed her a very crudely-fashioned shortbow. They exchanged puzzled looks. Bows were typically made from a single piece of wood or horn but this one was primitively lashed together with leather strips and would not take any prizes for beauty or grace. Even humans could make better-looking bows than this one. It was functional but awkward to grip and stronger to pull than it might seem at first glance. They decided to tie the beastly-looking thing under her pack and readied themselves for the next event.

Scent had warned them before the door opened, so they were prepared for the two aggressive spiders that skittered across the room at them with disturbing speed. Instead of waiting, however, Kaslyn raced through the doorway, using a pile of rubble that lay just past the open door to vault behind them. This maneuver gave Tamlen plenty of space to step into the room and freely swing his longsword. One of the monsters did not care which elf it attacked and swiftly lunged for Tamlen. He expertly blocked the dripping fangs with his shield, which left Kaslyn free to deliver quick and precise cuts and thrusts from behind it. Glancing up, Tamlen was dismayed to see that the other spider was not distracted, however. It reared on its back legs to overwhelm Kaslyn, but she snapped her fingers in its eyes, momentarily stunning it before she moved to engage it. Two quick thrusts of his longsword finished the spider on him and Tamlen quickly went to help his clanmate. Soon both of the things were dead.

He was about to call victory when Kaslyn scooped up a rock and threw it at the other side of the room. A third spider he had not even noticed suddenly rushed out of the shadows towards them. Stopping a good distance away, it reared up, firing a blob of something at the elves. Tamlen easily got his shield up in time then realized his mistake when the web exploded all over him. Struggling to free himself, his eyes widened in horror as he heard Kaslyn shout. He looked over to see her several feet away, waving her arms at the monster, drawing its attention away from him, and he fought even more desperately to escape the sticky threads. Having immobilized the first prey, the spider turned its attention on the second. Kaslyn, her two knives already slick with spider ichor, neatly dodged the sticky bolt of webbing it tried to snare her with, and then charged the hissing creature. By the time Tamlen finally managed to free himself, Kaslyn and the monster were engaged in a dance of blade and fang, arm and leg, lunging and dodging, but something was wrong. Kaslyn's movements appeared more deliberate and he could smell elven blood. He yanked his booted feet loose of the sticky ties to the floor and leaped the other dead spiders to get to her side. She saw him coming and awkwardly maneuvered the creature around so its back was to him. Tamlen was not cunning enough to find the weak points or make the particular cuts she could inflict from behind, but a skilled swordsman was lethal enough and with two strong strokes and a thrust, he killed it.

Quickly he checked her over for injuries. Still breathing hard with her head hanging, Kaslyn was bent over, propped up from her knees by hands that still clutched her daggers. Tamlen frowned. Any good Dalish hunter could run through the forest for hours without becoming seriously winded and although fighting was a different sort of effort, he knew it should not have been that much. He hastily returned his weapons to his harness and, examining her more carefully, finally noticed a slash on her right thigh. It did not look very deep but the blood oozing from the cut and mixing with the splotch of green covering the lower half of the wound made his heart leap into his throat. "By the Creators, Kas! Let me see that!"

Panting, she looked up at him then down at her leg to see what had made him so anxious. "Hunh," she murmured. She had felt the sting when the spider had lunged at her at one point; then the sting became a burn before going numb. She had felt her reflexes slowed and dulled but all she could do was keep fighting at the time. Now that she had a moment – and Tamlen had pointed it out - she saw the green slime on her leg and realized she had been poisoned. She stood steady as Tamlen quickly took an elfroot leaf from one of his pouches, used it to carefully wipe the stain from her leg, and then threw the leaf away from them when he was done. He bound a healing poultice in place before insisting that she chew one of the mushrooms he had found in order to help her withstand any poison already in her system. She growled at all of his precautions but her dark scowl was matched by one of his own and she cooperated. Tamlen was still clearly troubled but she smiled ruefully at him while her breathing and pulse quickly returned to normal and in a little while she felt better. Reaching out to reassuringly touch his shoulder, she told him, "Thanks, Tam. I'm fine now." His blue eyes searched her own for any subterfuge but found none and she was pleased to see the worry gradually fade from his features. Her gaze shifted to the shoulder where her hand rested and she started plucking off some of the spider webbing still clinging to him. It was drying quickly and becoming less sticky. Satisfied she had no other injuries, he started to help and a little while later he was completely free of all the strands.

Immediate concerns resolved, they continued their explorations. This chamber was large, stretching south to north, but broken up by a half dozen columns marching through the room. Tamlen gestured for Kaslyn to precede him and, sure enough, she discovered another trap near the northern corner where a passage led east. While she disabled the device, his quick search through nearby piles of rubble and bones yielded a few more items, such as a couple of still-useful healing poultices and more copper coins which he put away. Tamlen spotted another cocoon hanging from the ceiling in the southwestern corner and was more than willing to give Kaslyn a lift to investigate again. When he let her down, she held a number of small, thick arrows.

"Crossbow bolts," she explained. She looked at them closely in the dim light, realized the heads were made with flint, and caught a whiff of oil-soaked wood. She showed Tamlen and explained, "I think that when fired, the flint is supposed to spark along a piece of steel and ignite the end of the quarrel." Then she added, "These weapons rely on the archer's strength instead of dexterity and are mostly used by dwarves and humans."

"How do you know all that?" Tamlen inquired. It looked like a clumsy, unwieldy thing to him; not at all like the longer, graceful shafts of elven arrows.

Kaslyn chuckled, "Did you think you were the only one who ever snuck a peek at the Keeper's books?"

He enjoyed the magical sound of her laughter, so out of place in this dark, oppressive ruin, then arched his eyebrows at her. "You got all that from a 'peek' at her books?"

Kaslyn grimaced, "I didn't spend a week of nights at the river because I was suddenly keen to scrub all the supper dishes."

It was Tamlen's turn to laugh quietly. He remembered wondering why she had been absent from those evening fires – and being startled at his early twinges of jealousy at the thought of her sharing moonlight with any of the other hunters. He was distracted from his memories by Kaslyn's insistence on checking the short passage to the northeast where she had disarmed the trap. As she had suspected, the eastern opening connected to the very first hall they had encountered on entering the ruins. They turned back to the opposite corridor in the northwestern corner and found that after a few paces west, it turned south, becoming another long hallway. Huge tree roots, stretching along the right-hand wall, partially blocked the way, but the agile elves easily made their way past the roots and over the piles of dirt and crumbled tile littering the floor.

Halfway down the length of the passage, they discovered what was left of a tall, graceful statue standing against the eastern wall. It was completely different from the women holding the flaming bowls they had encountered on the other side of the ruins. Although time had worn away any recognizable facial features – if they had even existed – they could make out some sort of headdress, two slender arms held invitingly open, robes, and a flowing cape of some sort. Looking around, Kaslyn noted another closed door opposite the hauntingly familiar figure.

Tamlen brushed her arm with his fingers and drew her attention back to the carved stone. "I can't believe this. You recognize this statue, don't you?"

Kaslyn examined the ancient sculpture with her eyes and replied, "It's worn but it looks vaguely familiar…."

"Back when our people lived in Arlathan, statues like these honored the Creators," Tamlen explained. "When the shems enslaved us, much of that lore was lost. This looks like human architecture … with a statue of our people. Can these ruins date back to the time of Arlathan?"

Kaslyn was dubious. They weren't anywhere near Arlathan but she did not know any more than he did so she hedged, "Perhaps, but there isn't much left down here."

Tamlen acknowledged her point, "Yes…, time and decay take their toll. Still, there's bound to be something of value!"

She smiled. Even as unnerved as they were by this creepy place, Tamlen's spirits were irrepressible. Suddenly curious about how he seemed to know so much, and because she enjoyed the sound of his voice, she asked, "How did you know all that about the statue?"

Tamlen shrugged and grinned sheepishly at her. "I saw a picture of it in one of those old books the Keeper never lets anyone touch. It was one of the old gods. The Keeper called him a 'friend of the dead'."

Kaslyn's russet eyebrows arched, "'Friend of the dead'? What does that mean?"

Tamlen shrugged, "He was a guide who took people across the spirit land to their final rest in the Beyond. But he wasn't an evil god, not like Fen'Harel – the Great Wolf." He hesitated then added, "It doesn't seem right that a place so … wrong… would be his."

"Are you talking about Falon'Din?" Kaslyn asked with a sudden intuition.

"That was the name," Tamlen agreed with a nod.

They looked at the faceless statue again but there was no reassurance or intimidation to be found there.

"Let's keep going," Kaslyn suggested. They had come this far, after all.

"Lead on, lethallan," Tamlen gestured for her to continue.

Kaslyn momentarily debated about trying the door opposite the strange statue but decided she would rather make certain the rest of the hallway held no surprises. Trotting south down the stone passage, she made absent note of a few withered skeletons in rusted armor sprawled on the floor. They appeared to have nothing of value or interest on them and she did not bother to search them any more closely. If they did possess anything, it would keep until they had secured the rest of the ruins. The corridor also held other statuary - a few without heads, mostly women with swords or shields, and another one holding a flaming bowl - and she continued down the hall until it made another sharp left turn and ended at a door. Kaslyn's mental map of the place identified this as the locked door that she had been originally unable to open in the first spider room, and testing the door, she found it was indeed still locked tightly. Satisfied that nothing would be coming from behind to surprise them immediately, she returned to the alcove across from the elven statue.

Starting for the pointed door, she paused; something about the shadows on the floor tickled the hair on the back of her neck. Something was amiss there. Warning Tamlen back, she knelt and examined the area for some time but saw none of the tell-tale signs she had come to recognize in this place. Apprehensive that the unsettling atmosphere around them might be starting to interfere with her instincts, she reminded Tamlen to keep his distance then stepped cautiously towards the doorway. The instant she set foot inside the edge of the suspicious shadow, an unseen charm of some sort was triggered. A wrenching nausea in her gut abruptly caused her to gasp and she started to crumple to her knees. Tamlen, who did not always do as he was told she noted both fondly and sourly, quickly leaped forward, caught her around the waist, and pulled her back towards the statue. His actions apparently caused him to be included in the trap's effects and he groaned and doubled over in pain next to her. The two elves clung to each other on their knees for several seconds until the strangely induced spasms eventually ceased.

"Well, that was fun," Tamlen gasped sarcastically as they helped each other back to their feet.

"Remind me not to have that much fun again," Kaslyn agreed.

After reassuring themselves that the spell had passed, they turned warily back towards the door. Kaslyn insisted on going first again and this time, as her second step fell into the center of the now-visible circular shadow, they heard a rasping growl from behind them. Whirling to look, they were horrified to see two of the desiccated skeletons getting up from the floor. Clouds of dirt showered around the corpses and their dusty eye sockets turned in the elves' direction. The senior hunters always taught that if something could bleed, it could be killed, and Kaslyn wryly wondered what they would say about killing things already dead. Wasting no time, she whipped out her dar'misus and attacked the dried corpse on the left, crossing in front of a motionless Tamlen as she did so.

Tamlen was astonished to see dead bodies rise from the ground, where they had apparently lain for many years, and stumble towards him. How do you kill what was already dead, he wondered, feeling panic rise in his guts. Absently he noted one of the dead easily wielding one of the largest swords he had ever seen in his life. Both he and Kaslyn had heard tales of humans and dwarves – and even some brawny elves – who used such massive bludgeons but, practically speaking, two-handed weapons were not commonly favored by the Dalish with the obvious exception of bows. There simply was not room in a forest to easily swing such huge weapons. Suddenly he was shaken from his amazement when Kaslyn darted by him to launch herself at a skeleton. Tamlen grinned at his impulsive clanmate; as ever, she led the way. Wasting no more time, he quickly grabbed his sword and shield and leaped into the fray with his best friend. The undead were tough to kill but the hunters concentrated their efforts first on the one with the greatsword then on the other with the sword and shield, and eventually both corpses were broken enough to again be back at rest on the floor. Both young elves, rattled by the haunting experience, put away their weapons then instinctively grabbed for each others' hands. Tamlen gasped, "Were those walking corpses?"

"How could walking corpses be here?" Kaslyn asked at the same time.

Tamlen shook his head. Taking a few, deep, steadying breaths, and growing somewhat calmer, he spoke. "Hahren Paivel once said that in places where many people died, it can become setheneran – a land of waking dreams. The Veil becomes weak and spirits slip into our world. Then they possess corpses and walk around…" He paused and they glanced around.

"Ugh…," they both shuddered simultaneously and one of Tamlen's arms slipped comfortingly around her waist while he rested the hand he still held on his chest.

Trying to hide her mounting misgivings, Kaslyn asked, "Do you want to turn around?"

Tamlen was thoughtful for all of a second before answering, "Mmm…, no. This place must have been important for so many to have died here. I'm curious … Let's press on … I want to know how our people were involved with this. "

Kaslyn nodded. Perhaps she _was_ letting her imagination run away with her instincts after all. "You said something about a 'Veil'?" She suddenly recalled.

Tamlen shrugged self-consciously. "I'm no storyteller. All I remember of the Hahren's tales is that a Veil separates our world from the spirit world." He paused, trying to remember, then went on, "He said that spirits are jealous of us and always try to steal our souls. They want to be like us so badly they'll even possess our dead which drives them insane." Tamlen's shoulders twitched uncomfortably, "But for them to enter our world, the Veil must be weak." He glanced around and quietly added, "Is that why this place feels so strange?"

"I don't like that idea," Kaslyn softly admitted.

"Neither do I," he agreed.

They stood there together for a few more moments then Kaslyn made the effort to rouse them from their disturbing contemplations. "So talk," she teased, "If that will calm you down!"

"I suppose," he replied dubiously. He brightened as he realized her intent and continued in a lighter tone, "Hey, if you weren't assisting Master Varathorn today, then how did you end up coming with me?" He had found out she had confessed to Keeper Marethari about the incident in the other camp and had been both impressed and chagrined. His punishment had been an assignment to run the other clan's long trap-lines; a boring task which, if done properly, would keep him out of the area for at least a day and a half. Tamlen had been diligent and had returned to his clan late yesterday evening. For her part in the affair, he learned that Kaslyn had been assigned to work for two days with the Craft Master in the other camp. Practiced mischief-makers, they both knew the main reason was to keep them separated for a time. The other reason was to give the 'injured' clan an extra set of helping hands. If the elders were also hoping to exchange new blood by one of them becoming interested in a member of the other camp, they were doomed to disappointment. He had inquired as discreetly and indirectly as he could and found out Kaslyn was of the opinion that the other clan's bucks were mainly bland, humorless simpletons which pleased Tamlen to no end. Despite the exotic beauty of some of the dusky vixens in the other tribe, as far as Tamlen was concerned, none could compare to Kaslyn. So separation-as-punishment, plus extra chores, it was for them.

Kaslyn was shocked to hear her own voice answer, "I wanted to be with you, of course." Her eyes flew wide open. Feeling her face heat, she dropped her head with a pained expression. What was she doing? Why did she say that? If he didn't feel the same way about her …! She suddenly realized she had at some point slipped her arm around his middle, while he held her other hand over his heart, and they had been embracing each other for some time. How did that happen? Through his leathers she felt his heartbeat quicken. She was convinced this situation had Disaster written all over it.

Tamlen was elated at her words and was secretly glad she did not see the ridiculous grin that came across his face while his heart drummed in his chest. It was not often Kaslyn simply came out with her thoughts or feelings so openly. He determined right then to speak with their elders as soon as they got back to camp.

Kaslyn felt warm, calloused fingers under her chin, urging her to look up into his face. She knew she was still flushed but could not resist too hard. She had come this far, she thought resignedly, might as well see the awkward situation through. He was a half-head taller than she was and as her gaze reluctantly lifted she saw that Tamlen's eyes were as tender as his touch and his expression was gently amused.

"I … thought that might be the case. I'm glad," he quietly reassured her with a warm smile. He paused then suggested, "Let's just find whatever's here and get out. We can talk later."

Kaslyn smiled and nodded in relief and unexpected anticipation.

Reluctantly parting, they searched the corpses of those they had re-slain. Aside from the greatsword that was in surprisingly good condition, they recovered two more, viable, healing poultices, an iron longsword and a small, metal, round shield. Warily turning for the door that had been temporarily forgotten, they cautiously crept towards the entry. For once, nothing happened as they crossed the now clearly-visible, dark circle without incident. Kaslyn checked the door and found the lock had been smashed by something. The hinges were stiff or bent, however, and she had to lean in on the door to push it open.

Suddenly a loud roar echoed around them, battering their ears at the same time their sensitive noses were assaulted with the stench of raw flesh, blood, and putrescence. Both elves looked inside to see some huge, revolting … thing rising from the floor to its four, clawed feet. Two, enlarged fangs, the length of a hand, dripped down past the thing's lower jaw, long, pointed spines pierced through flesh that looked mostly raw and flayed, and only a few strips and tufts of brownish fur still clung in spots to its body.

Kaslyn immediately rushed into the room. She knew from experience that the trick with bears – if that's what this thing used to be – was to kill them before they got any momentum behind their bulk or worked themselves into a berserker fury. Its eyes, what she could see past the face marred by bony lumps on its head, looked clouded, but if its sight was worse than normal, its sense of smell and hearing clearly made up for the lack, as it quickly oriented on the doorway and started to charge forward. One of Kaslyn's blades ripped across its snout when she dodged past the hideous hulk, and it started to track her movements, giving enough time for Tamlen to close with it.

"Not a chance!" Tamlen called, and with his battlecry, struck its thick shoulder with his sword, drawing its attention to himself. He took the first blow from its huge paw on his shield with a grunt then slashed again at the monster. Kaslyn, avoiding the spikes protruding from the rest of the creature's body, quickly positioned herself behind the beast and started to work her blades over its fetid, oozing flesh while Tamlen held it at bay with his shield. A dual sweep of both blades apparently struck a nerve because it bellowed and spun around unexpectedly to turn its rage on her. She heard Tamlen shout her name with fear in his voice, and her eyes widened when the behemoth suddenly lurched to its hind legs. It towered over her, swinging both massive paws at her head. Reacting on instinct and adrenaline, Kaslyn dodged the claws and took advantage of the creature's exposed belly. Her blades were a flurry of motion as she performed three rapid jabs into its vitals. Badly wounded, the monster roared in pain and plummeted down on top of her. At the last moment, Kaslyn thrust her left dagger into its chest then swept her right blade deeply through its neck. A fountain of bloody ichor erupted, and with a gurgling moan, the creature crashed to the floor, with Kaslyn neatly side-stepping the monstrous corpse as the head landed on the spot where she had been standing.

Tamlen, who had been frantically hammering at the thing's spiny back, trying to draw it off of her, was more than a little relieved to see her still standing when the beast toppled to the ground. "By the Creators!" He gasped, "What was that thing?"

"I think …, I think it used to be a bear," Kaslyn hesitantly replied. Strangely sympathetic, she silently wished its spirit a safe passage into the Beyond.

Both splattered with gore, he eyed her sharply and asked, "Are you all right?"

Kaslyn nodded and wiped her blades off on her leggings. She gave Tamlen an inquiring expression.

He nodded that he was well then grinned and remarked, "I guess you'd know if it was a bear."

She returned his smile. She had four, parallel, horizontal scars on her upper right arm and a longer, matching set on her left thigh where she had accidentally tangled with a brown bear by herself. She still slept under the hide she had taken that day to become acknowledged as a full hunter, and she and Tamlen still wore the matching bearclaw necklaces she had made from it, too. Reluctantly, she bent to examine the mutilated corpse before her now, and discovered a wad of mail that turned out to be a scale armor chest piece, as well as a dark red, nearly black, garnet. That someone might have been the beast's last meal was disturbing enough, that the carcass suddenly dissolved into a large puddle of bloody ooze, leaving only a scattering of the larger bones, was even more unsettling. The two hunters exchanged a disgusted glance and shivered. They then turned to explore the rest of the chamber.

This room was circular and had once been much more elaborately carved than the other areas they had seen thus far but, also unlike the rest of the ruins, this chamber was even more overgrown. Huge roots, the size of tree trunks, lined most of the walls and largely obscured the detailed stonework behind them. Leafy growths in the openings of the arched ceiling above allowed for some light to penetrate. As Tamlen investigated a nearby pile of rubble, Kaslyn came across another old sarcophagus on the other side of the room. She found the lid slightly askew and inside discovered a leather belt and a small, strangely-carved black stone. The belt was clearly Dalish, made from halla hide, and bore a faint tingle of magic. Admiring the images of birds in flight embossed on it, and to conserve space in her pack, she went ahead and slung it loosely around her waist. She then examined the dark stone. An unfamiliar symbol was carved into it but the truly curious aspect was that the etching was warm, with a flickering, orange glow as though a candle flame had been somehow embedded inside the stone behind the symbol. Kaslyn was fascinated and slipped the rock into a pouch. Nothing else of interest appeared around the perimeter of the chamber, except for a rough opening halfway up the western wall which intrigued her. She turned and saw Tamlen standing with his arms crossed, studying the most obvious thing in the middle of the room.

Six, stone steps led up to a dais on which an ornately-decorated, full-length mirror stood. The top of the glass arched up to a point nearly twice their height overhead. Etched around the edges of the mirror were marks that appeared to be some sort of writing. The otherwise-flawless glass was flanked by two, huge statues of men in robes, each holding a large, stone sword with the points resting at their feet. Everything surrounding the mirror was carved from a lighter-colored rock that was different from the rest of the ruins they had explored. Kaslyn came to stand next to Tamlen who was still looking at the strange mirror.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Tamlen breathed. "I wonder what the writing says," he asked with a glance at her.

"'Do not touch the glass'?" Kaslyn answered drolly. This was definitely the source of Wrongness in this place. She could feel … something, pulsing just beyond the surface of the mirror, like a lid left on a boiling pot.

Tamlen scoffed in good humor, "Not that we'd leave a fingerprint on it … see how clean it is? Not a single smudge or crack."

She looked at him. He seemed awfully excited about something her instincts were warning to leave alone - and just leave, period.

"I wonder what this writing is for?" He mused. "Maybe this isn't – hey, did you see that?" His eyebrows quirked and he glanced quickly at her. "I think something moved inside the mirror …."

Kaslyn did _not_ like the sound of that and her instinctive warnings about danger went from muttering to clamoring. She looked at him anxiously and said, "Get away from it, Tamlen…." She touched his elbow, subtly urging him to leave.

"Hold on," he answered with impatience and moved his arm away from her hand. He glanced at her again, "I just want to know what it is. Do you see it?" His eyes started shifting back and forth between her and the mirror.

Kaslyn peered at the mirror again, trying to see what mesmerized him in the glass. Then she _did_ see it. Near the bottom, roughly hip-high from the top of the dais, something like a small ripple briefly appeared in the otherwise still surface of the glass.

"There it is again!" Tamlen said excitedly. "Can you feel that? I think it knows we're here."

As though sensing his emotion, faint color fluttered inside the mirror again and Kaslyn felt a wave of cold wash out over her. Tamlen started up the steps towards the glass and Kaslyn reluctantly followed as he went on, "I just need to take a closer look …."

Kaslyn _really_ did not like the sound of that and wondered why he 'needed' to do anything but leave. Still, she would not abandon her clanmate and climbed the steps at his side until they stood directly in front of the mirror. At this point she could no longer tell herself it was the angle of the glass - whatever else this mirror might be doing – it was not casting their reflections.

Tamlen continued to look in the mirror, occasionally glancing back at Kaslyn to see if what he was watching was registering with her. She looked anxious but otherwise did not appear to be seeing anything distinctly unusual in the glass. "It's showing me places …," he explained. His hand reached out and his fingers brushed the surface of the glass. It felt icy to the touch, he noticed, even as he looked back and saw her watching not the mirror but him with a troubled expression. "I can see some kind of city … underground …, and there's a great blackness…."

Kaslyn's curiosity was quickly losing out to the combination of unease about this creepy mirror and fear about its apparently sinister effect on Tamlen. Her instincts were howling their warnings in earnest now. She flinched and then wanted to punch him when he reached out and actually touched the thing. Where his fingers met the glass, colors swirled and began to fill the rest of the mirror but there was no resolution into any of the imagery, he was apparently seeing.

Suddenly the excitement in his voice turned to panic, "It saw me…! Help…! I can't look away - !"

Kaslyn grabbed Tamlen's arm to pull him away as the mirror began to glow brighter and brighter. She felt a sharp blow in her midsection as she was thrown from the dais. "TAMLEN!" Kaslyn yelled. The last glimpse she had of him saw his head turned in her direction with his left arm up shielding his face, and his right hand extended where she had been standing. Her vision of him was swallowed by a blinding white light. The cold air was filled with the stench of ozone and a low, rumbling growl seemed to mutter the word, "Speak…." Black silence pounced on her from nowhere and everywhere.

~O~

Aching in her head, in her joints, and all the places in between penetrated the darkness. As soon as she recognized the feeling of pain, she was forced to acknowledge the waves of unbearable heat as well as the nausea washing through her. There was something she had to do…, someone…, somewhere …, _needed_ her. Was that a voice? Kaslyn managed to lever her eyelids open and through fever-blurred vision saw something green that could have been a bush and what might have been a stone column. Her ears were filled with a roaring hum. The scents cloying at her nose, and encouraging her stomach to share its contents, she faintly recognized as belonging to the forest. Where was she? She turned her head and a dark face slid into her hazy vision.

"Can you hear me?" A deep voice she did not recognize resonated in her ears. "I am … very sorry…."

No…, sorry… The word found an echo lodged deep in her heart and she turned her head away. She had to go … do … something … where was …? She moaned softly as she felt hands gently work their way under her knees and shoulders, and she was picked up and cradled to someone's armored chest. She finally identified the scent as human then lost it in the prickling, hot blackness that dropped over her like a wet wool blanket.


	2. Recovery

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns DragonAge and all related materials – and most of the dialogue. I am simply grateful they allow others to play in their world._

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**Chapter Two – Recovery**

Kaslyn opened her eyes and her vision focused on the notched beams of wood arching over her head. Scents of wood and leather, and faint sounds of quiet elven voices were familiar. Peering about, she recognized the neatly stored blankets on the shelves, the shutters open at the window, and the weapon and armor racks stationed in the corners. All of which quickly oriented her on the fact that she was home - under her bear-fur blanket in her own bed in the vixens' aravel to be precise. Sitting up, she remembered feeling hot and cold, sick and achy, but apparently that was all over now. Her brain still felt a little sluggish but she decided movement should remedy that and looking around, she found her clothes and weapons neatly arranged close by. Getting out of bed, she pulled off the linen shift she wore, swiftly donned her deerskin leathers, and smoothly pulled her thick, unruly hair back up into the usual, high ponytail to keep the majority out of her eyes. By the time she buckled on her weapons harness, and positioned her quiver properly, her insistent bangs had worked themselves loose and were back as usual around her face. Ducking out of the aravel, she paused at the top of the studded ramp. Eyes used to the dim interior of the landship took a few moments to adjust to the day and she shaded them from the first bright stab of sunlight until they compensated.

The sun was well into the morning and a casual glance confirmed that, sure enough, she was back in her home camp. A short distance from the bottom of the ramp where she stood was a fair-haired hunter with his back to her. She thought at first it was Tamlen but realized he was a bit taller and leaner just as Fenarel turned his head at the soft sound of her footsteps descending the incline. Fenarel had hair slightly darker than Tamlen's light blond and he wore it a little longer except for a braid in the front which started over his right eye and ended up dangling behind his left ear. His eyes were a deep green and he wore the more complex version of Tamlen's vallaslin on his face. His expression lit up when he saw her.

"Kaslyn! You're awake! You've the gods' own luck, lethallan," he hesitated then explained, "You're back at camp. Everyone is worried sick about you. How do you feel?"

"Fine, Fenarel, but a little groggy," she replied easily. Her eyes started roaming the area as she stepped just in front of him. It wasn't like Tamlen to be absent when she was ill. Usually he was the first person waiting for her when she came out of the aravel – unless he had been sick, too. A heavy feeling of dread settled into the pit of her stomach. The hunter's next words startled her.

"We thought you would _die_," Fenarel shook his head at her apparent nonchalance. "The shem who brought you here said there wasn't much hope. Seems he was wrong," he added proudly.

Kaslyn suddenly felt disturbingly clueless and adrift. "There was a human?"

Fenarel's eyes widened curiously as he said, "A shem brought you back two days ago. You don't remember him?"

Kaslyn's eyebrows arched and she stupidly asked, "I've been here for two days?!"

Fenarel was obviously worried now. Only a few years older than Kaslyn, he had never seen her so disoriented. "He was a Grey Warden and appeared out of nowhere with you in his arms." He paused to see if any of this was registering but her face remained blank so he continued. "You were delirious with fever. He said that he found you outside a cave in the forest, unconscious and alone. He left you here and ran off again. The Keeper's been using the old magic to heal you."

Kaslyn rubbed at her face with both hands. Fenarel's words were provoking memories - not of this human he spoke of but the cave and her last glimpse of Tamlen. She dropped her hands from her cheeks and looked sharply at her fellow hunter. "Is anyone looking for Tamlen?"

"Of course!" He responded immediately, "Most of the hunters are off looking for him right now." Her intention to go search for Tamlen herself was clear and he quickly added, "But the Keeper wanted to talk to you as soon as you awoke. Stay here – I'll get her." With that Fenarel left.

Kaslyn was restless and pacing by the time Keeper Marethari joined her. She was escorted by Fenarel, who veered off to wait by a neighboring aravel, and another hunter who continued on past Kaslyn with a respectful nod. Keeper Marethari's vallaslin was much more elaborate and complicated than most in the clan and was enhanced by the few, fine lines of age that also marked the older woman's handsome countenance. Two shoulder-length braids framed her curious expression while two more braids were looped front to back to contain the rest of her long, silver hair. Her green leathers were intricately stitched and accented with gold rings, fur trim covered her shoulders, and a gold medallion flashed at her throat. Examining Kaslyn for a few moments with her wise, gray-green eyes, the clan leader spoke, "I see you are awake, da'len. It is fortunate Duncan found you when he did. I know not what dark power held you but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult even for my magic to keep you alive."

Kaslyn's attention immediately latched onto the unfamiliar name the Keeper had uttered, "Duncan? Is that the one who brought me back?" A vague memory of a dark face flickered briefly through her mind.

"Yes, he introduced himself as a Grey Warden," Keeper Marethari answered. A tiny smile hovered on her lips at the young hunter's indomitable curiosity, but the reason behind the Warden's appearance sobered the Keeper, and she went on. "Duncan thought there might have been darkspawn creatures inside the cave. Is that true?"

"I'm not sure," Kaslyn blinked at the older woman, "What does a darkspawn look like?"

"Like a man but dark and tainted with evil. Perhaps you fought one in the cave and it wounded you," she suggested but the hunter was already shaking her head negatively.

Kaslyn did not remember anything that fit the Keeper's description. "There were giant spiders and dead men that walked."

"Walking corpses?" Keeper Marethari mused and shook her own head, "Dark magic but not darkspawn… I know not what the other creatures might have been." She glanced sharply back at Kaslyn. "What else did you find? What is the last thing you remember?"

"A mirror," Kaslyn promptly replied, "Tamlen touched it."

"A mirror?" The Keeper repeated, puzzled, "And it caused all this? I have never heard of such a thing in all the lore we have collected…." She turned, took a few steps away from the young hunter, and sighed, "I was hoping for answers when you woke but there are only more questions." She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging her fur-clad shoulders as though bracing against the direction her thoughts were taking her, and continued, "And Tamlen remains missing. He is more important than any lore in these ruins." She glanced thoughtfully back at Kaslyn, "If he is as sick as you were, his condition is grave…. Duncan returned to the cave to search for darkspawn but we cannot rely on him to look for Tamlen as well. We must go ourselves, and quickly." She turned back to the young hunter, gently gripping Kaslyn's upper arms in her hands, and asked, "Do you feel well enough to show us the way, Kaslyn? Without you we will not find it."

"I don't know," she replied. "Is my sickness gone?"

"Your fever broke and the signs of whatever illness snared you are gone … but truthfully, I don't know if you are free from it or not," The Keeper answered honestly. "I wish I knew more. Still," she added encouragingly, "you seem well enough now. We must watch your condition but without you we will not find this cave."

Kaslyn knew that if Tamlen was going through anything similar to what she vaguely remembered feeling, he would be completely incoherent. Fear suddenly gripped her that he might be dying somewhere in the forest alone. If she was Tamlen's only hope, then this was no time to think about herself. She felt fine anyway. "Then I am ready to go," she answered firmly.

Keeper Marethari smiled, "I am relieved to hear it." Her pleased expression turned serious again and she dropped her hands from the girl as she told her, "I am ordering the clan to pack the camp so we can go north. Take Merrill with you to the cave. Find Tamlen if you can but do it swiftly."

"The clan is leaving?" Kaslyn asked with surprise.

"If there is any truth to what Duncan said, then darkspawn may show up in these parts soon. We must get away from that horde," the Keeper explained, "but that is not our only concern. Did you encounter any humans out in the forest?"

Unlike the latest events, Kaslyn's memory of three days ago was quite clear and she nodded, "Three of them. We drove them off."

"Although you hurt no one," Keeper Marethari remarked with a resigned frown, "These humans roused their nearby village against us. As everywhere, our people are not welcome here. We have stayed too long and we must move on – quickly."

"Are you not interested in the ruins and the mirror?" Kaslyn wanted to know. Was it all for nothing? Had she and Tamlen risked it all for nothing?

Reading the dismay in the young woman's eyes, Keeper Marethari soothed, "I would be lying if I said I was not." Her gaze became compassionate but unyielding at the same time, "But whatever knowledge lies in that cave is not worth our children. I send you back with hopes of finding Tamlen and that is all."

"Why do you want me to take Merrill," Kaslyn boldly asked then. Did the Keeper really want to risk her First in that cave or was it to make certain that Kaslyn came back? The clan would not immediately depart, leaving two hunters unaccounted for, and she would not leave without finding Tamlen.

Keeper Marethari's expression did not change as she explained, "Merrill knows a degree of my magic. Tamlen's chances of surviving the journey back are greater with her help." She paused, "I also wish for Merrill to see this cave and mirror. She has a sense for these things, and could shed light on the nature of this illness."

Kaslyn's concern for Tamlen expanded to include her clan-sister. "But doesn't Merrill risk getting ill as well?"

"You recovered," the Keeper pointed out, "and Merrill will, too. Still," she added, "be careful…, should you come upon this strange mirror again, do not touch it."

Kaslyn swallowed and the heavy knot in the pit of her stomach tightened a few more notches. She had her orders. "Take Merrill to the cave and find Tamlen. I understand," she accepted with a curt nod.

The Keeper raised her chin and urged, "Go quickly, for Tamlen's life hangs in the balance."

"Pray for me, Keeper," Kaslyn murmured as she turned to leave. She was anxious to get back to the cave to start her search, but as she left the Keeper she caught a glimpse of Fenarel leaning on an aravel nearby. He jerked his chin up indicating he wanted a word and reluctantly she walked over to him.

"Is the Keeper sending you back to that cave to look for Tamlen?" Fenarel asked curiously.

"Does everyone know about the cave?" Kaslyn asked in return.

"Yes," he promptly responded. "The clan's been talking about it since that Grey Warden brought you back."

"Why do you want to know?" Kaslyn asked. She was restless to get going and did not want to waste any more time on talk.

"I want to go with you," he answered. "Keeper Marethari probably won't approve but I can help find Tamlen."

Kaslyn thought quickly. She supposed that was true. Fenarel was a solid tracker. Anything she missed he would likely catch – as long as he did not catch this illness as well. There was the matter of the Keeper's orders, but she had not said Kaslyn could not take anyone else, only that she had to take Merrill. Still … she finally replied, "It's too dangerous, Fenarel. I'm only supposed to take Merrill."

Fenarel scowled fiercely and insisted, "Tamlen's my friend, too! I want to help find him! If Merrill can risk it, so can I."

Kaslyn sighed. She would have felt the same way in his boots and she could not deny his bravery. "I suppose I won't stop you then…. All right," she nodded, "come with us."

His stubborn expression cleared and he remarked, "Good. I'll follow you, just to make sure Merrill doesn't go running to the Keeper when you tell her I'm coming."

Kaslyn arched a confused eyebrow and blinked at the taller hunter. _He_ demanded to go with her and suddenly _she_ was telling Merrill he was coming along? She absently shook her head at such odd logic and turned to go find the Keeper's apprentice.

Kaslyn trotted quickly through the camp, waving in response to the many greetings from relieved clanmates, and finally spotted Merrill's slim figure waiting on the other side. Merrill's short hair, partially caught up in numerous small braids, was as black as a raven's wing. Her vallaslin was tinted with a shade of purple, her favorite color, but her leathers were predominantly gold and mimicked the design of the Keeper's outfit. "I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Kaslyn!" Merrill hailed her with a smile when she saw the hunters draw near. Her gray eyes sharpened and she grew serious. "The Keeper told me I'm to accompany you back to those caves. As her apprentice, I may see something you missed but our main objective is to find Tamlen, of course. We must make haste," she urged, "he may not have much time."

"How much of our lore do you know?" Kaslyn inquired of the older girl. Merrill was an eager scholar of the elven knowledge they had been able to collect so far, and was always reading something. There had been talk when they were younger about whether Kaslyn or Merrill would be chosen as First to the Keeper but while one girl had been keenly interested in the position the other had not. As far as Kaslyn was concerned, Merrill was much better suited to apprentice to the clan leader than she ever would have been.

"Less than I'd like to," Merrill admitted modestly then added, "I know some of our old magic as our Keeper does and I'll know about these relics if I see them." She sighed impatiently and added, "The Keeper isn't sending me to collect anything, however. We're worried about Tamlen."

Kaslyn knew that had to grate on her clan-sister who was as eager to recover any history of their people as any other Dalish. Still, this was no mere scouting expedition. "Aren't you worried about getting sick?"

"A little," Merrill confessed with a shrug, "but the Keeper cured you. How dangerous could it be?" She raised her chin and said, "Even if I get sick, finding Tamlen – or something valuable – will be worth it."

Again, Kaslyn was proud of the ready courage of her clan; still, "That cave isn't some quiet place to take a book. How much did the Keeper tell you?"

"Enough to pique my interest…and my concern," Merrill admitted, "You can explain the rest on the way."

More than ready to get going, Kaslyn started for the forest. "Let's go."

Merrill stopped her with a hand on her arm and, gesturing to the tall hunter behind, asked impatiently. "What about Fenarel? You didn't think I'd notice him?"

Merrill was sharp, Kaslyn's opportunistic humor pointed out, no doubt about that.

"I'm coming to help. Tamlen's my friend, too," Fenarel answered defensively.

"We were supposed to go alone," Merrill said with some exasperation. She divided a look between the two younger hunters and said, "Have you asked the Keeper about this?"

"Should I ask her?" Kaslyn asked, startled. How did Merrill know they were to go alone? Although Kaslyn did not want to risk anyone else in the cave, she had seen what could happen with only two hunters. Taking a third as backup surely could not hurt.

Merrill scowled at Kaslyn, "You said the cave is a dangerous place! You want to risk Fenarel getting hurt? Or worse?" She cut her narrowed eyes back to the fair-haired hunter.

"_I_ should decide whether I'm willing to risk it or not," he replied quietly.

"Go tell the Keeper that, then," Merrill challenged in the tone of someone about to get somebody else in trouble.

Kaslyn did not take well to ultimatums. She was focused on finding Tamlen and this argument was not helping. Fenarel's quiet mettle had impressed her, however, more than Merrill's obstructionism. Kaslyn nodded, "We'll do that." She ground her teeth at yet more delay and started back to the Keeper with Fenarel trailing. She had been in enough trouble lately and Tamlen needed her _now_.

Kaslyn found Keeper Marethari near the central fire not far from Hahren Paivel. Marethari's eyebrows arched with surprise before her expression became stern. "I see you have not left with Merrill yet. Is there something you need?"

Kaslyn promptly answered, "I want to bring Fenarel with us to the cave." Struck with sudden inspiration, she added, "I've just recovered from being sick, and Merrill's not that strong, so neither of us would be enough to drag an injured hunter back to camp. Fenarel's a good tracker and he's stronger than both of us."

Keeper Marethari's intense gaze turned to the young man nearby. "Fenarel, are you certain? I am already putting Merrill and Kaslyn at risk; I don't want to lose you, too."

Fenarel straightened his shoulders and replied, "I want to help, Keeper. If we can find Tamlen, it's worth the risk."

The Keeper was momentarily thoughtful then slowly nodded her head. She divided a glance between the two hunters and said, "Very well, then. You have my permission – and thank you for asking for it."

They nodded and wasted no time on the return trip to Merrill.

"You're back! Are you ready to go now?" The dark haired woman inquired.

"Let's head out now," Kaslyn acknowledged. Fenarel fell into step behind her.

Merrill gestured to him with annoyance, "What about Fenarel?"

"We asked," he replied easily. "The Keeper has given her leave."

Merrill frowned and started to say something else but Kaslyn had hit the limit of her patience and continued on into the woods. Fenarel followed, forcing the mage to fall in behind them. Pausing for a moment to consider, Kaslyn recalled where she and Tamlen had encountered the humans three days ago. She took them to that point, and then began retracing the path she and Tamlen had taken to the cave. Bearing west, they soon left the obvious deer trails.

"I doubt anyone has come searching so far out in this direction," Fenarel quietly told them after a while.

They were skirting the edge of a gulch and had just passed a stone outcrop when the breeze cast an unfamiliar stench in their direction. Looking across the hollow, the elves saw two, strange-looking beings. They were shaped vaguely like men but that was where the similarities ended. Before Kaslyn could do more than wonder what they were, an arrow whistled over her right shoulder. Immediately she grabbed her bow and returned fire. Merrill and Fenarel quickly stepped up beside her and commenced attacking the same target. Merrill, focusing her magic through her staff, unleashed bolts of arcane energy while Fenarel's longbow rapidly and accurately loosed arrow after arrow. When the first creature staggered, Kaslyn quietly suggested Fenarel change his aim to the other one that was also shooting arrows at them, and he swung his bow arm to the right. Just before the second creature could seek cover behind two small trees halfway around the edge of the gully, Fenarel cleverly pinned it in place with an arrow through its leg and kept firing. Kaslyn and Merrill finished off the first monster then joined their efforts with Fenarel on their remaining foe. The Dalish were clearly the superior archers and the second monster soon toppled to the dirt as well.

Weapons held ready, the elves cautiously approached the nearest prone creature. They had never seen the like. It was hideous. Its skin was a darkly-mottled greenish color and spiked ears sat high on its hairless skull. The small, beady eyes were nearly hidden under a heavy brow and the nose wasn't much more than two holes virtually smashed between its eyes. Instead of lips, the broad mouth was lined with sharply pointed teeth. It looked to have stood about their height but was easily twice as broad, and probably two times as heavy, as any of the Dalish. Crude and filthy splint-mail covered most of its body and in its clawed hands it carried a rough bow that Kaslyn recognized as similar to the one Tamlen had discovered in the ruins. Death did not improve the smell.

When they were sure their enemies lay dead, the elves put away their weapons. Kaslyn paused, startled, as she realized she still carried Tamlen's longbow. She remembered asking him to trade bows with her before they had reached the cave and, glancing around, her breath caught. The exchange had happened near this very area, she recalled with a lump in her throat. It was as though her best friend was still looking after her. Merrill's anxious voice provided a distraction as Kaslyn slowly clipped the bow to her weapon harness.

"What were those things? Were they darkspawn?" The mage was looking right at the red-haired hunter.

"You're asking me?" Kaslyn responded. "I don't know!"

"I've never seen anything like them! You can smell the evil on them." Merrill's expression was troubled. "Where did they come from? Were they here before?"

"I think I would have noticed," Kaslyn replied wryly and Fenarel smirked. Although Merrill was more wood-wise than the average human, she spent most of her time with the Keeper and was not as familiar with tracking or fighting as the hunters were. Kaslyn realized that Merrill's tone was sharp from the unexpected surprise, but she was relieved to note that the mage's inquisitiveness appeared to be quickly overcoming her fear.

Merrill collected herself with some small effort and urged, "Let's move on and hope we don't meet any more of these monsters." She paused then looked at Kaslyn curiously, "Before we go, are you all right? Were you hurt during the fight?"

As the three of them had stood within a stride of each other during the entire length of the skirmish and neither of the creatures had come anywhere near them, Kaslyn thought that was a strange question. "I'm fine," she answered, "Why do you ask?"

Fenarel wore a concerned expression of his own and remarked, "You … do look quite pale, now that Merrill's mentioned it."

"I'm fine," Kaslyn reassured them. Absently her fingers reached back and lightly brushed Tamlen's bow.

Merrill studied her for a few more seconds before relenting, "Well, I'll keep an eye on you. You're only just recovered from your illness." She went on more briskly, "But let's not think of that now. We should move on."

Fenarel and Kaslyn insisted on scavenging anything useful from the corpses and were a bit disturbed to find a minor healing poultice and a flask of acid. If these were the darkspawn the Keeper had mentioned, it was somewhat disconcerting to realize they were not completely animalistic if they were capable of making use of such items. Kaslyn knew neither of her companions was familiar with the acid so she carefully tucked it into one of her own pouches. After a brief debate, they decided to leave their arrows in the bodies as both a warning to others and as a precaution against bringing anything dangerous back to their camp. Continuing around the perimeter of the gulch, Kaslyn noted where she and Tamlen had dispatched the two wolves that had attacked them, and soon they passed through the clearing where the dead halla had been reduced by scavengers to a few scattered bones and scraps of hide. They were on the right trail. Eventually, they came across a neat but empty campsite. While Kaslyn crouched to examine what was left of the fire, Fenarel investigated the bedroll and provision pack left nearby. There was no real heat emanating from the ashes and Kaslyn deduced that this fire might have burned in its stone circle last night but had not been recently active. Fenarel shook his head, indicating he had found nothing of interest, identification, or value. They were careful to leave everything exactly the way they had found it and spoke together near the dead campfire.

"I wonder whose camp this is," Merrill asked the question in all of their minds. She looked at Kaslyn adding, "Do you remember it being here?"

"No," the red-haired hunter answered. "This wasn't here. It's fresh."

Merrill mused to herself, "The Grey Warden said he was returning to the cave. Perhaps this is his camp." She looked around and went on, "If so, he's not here now and we've seen no sign of Tamlen. Maybe we should … Wait …, do you hear that?"

Kaslyn and Fenarel had exchanged concerned glances about the silence before Merrill had noticed but Kaslyn softly affirmed, "No forest creatures. It's too quiet."

"Exactly," Merrill murmured. "The forest is … too still. Something's in the air … something unnatural."

The three of them instantly faced outwards with their backs to each other, scanning the area with their senses alert. Nothing was immediately detected and Kaslyn quietly warned them, "Tamlen and I felt the same thing in the cave."

"And now it's affecting the forest?" Merrill asked. "Maybe that mirror unleashed some kind of sickness. That would not be good."

Fenarel snorted, "That's an understatement."

Merrill shot him a quelling glare and urged, "The sooner we find this cave and Tamlen, the sooner we can leave. Take us there quickly."

Kaslyn was about to comply when their noses were again assailed by that inhuman stink and something crashed through the underbrush not far from where they stood. Moving swiftly, the elves caught a glimpse of more battered armor, and drew their weapons. As silent as the forest's own shadows, the Dalish approached the three darkspawn unnoticed, and were able to get the drop on their foes. One of the creatures loosed only a few arrows before it dropped its bow, grabbed its blades, and charged at them. Urging her companions to keep firing on the other two archers, Kaslyn exchanged her bow for her dar-misus and intercepted it. Behind her, she heard Merrill quietly mutter something and suddenly the blades of Kaslyn's daggers lit with magical fire. Grimly pleased, Kaslyn stunned the darkspawn and was quickly educated by the first stroke of her blade that these creatures were considerably tougher than anything else she had ever fought; no wonder it took twice as many arrows to bring them down. Slipping behind her opponent, she sought any weak points in its armor or hide, but before she was able to kill it, the creature shook off her distraction, and, fortunately, turned its attention to her instead of her clanmates. Dodging a sword swung at her head, she parried the crude dagger that came more slowly at her midsection. For such a brawny creature she had expected a much stronger blow. Kaslyn heard Merrill's voice again, and realized the Keeper's First had spared a second to weaken the monster with magic before continuing to launch arcane bolts at the others. Spotting an opening, Kaslyn darted forward to come up beneath the creature's guard, plunged her long knives through its neck, and then simultaneously swept them apart. It lurched with the force of her strike then tumbled backwards to the ground. Eyeing the remaining two darkspawn, Kaslyn judged that Merrill and Fenarel's combined attack on the second one was most effective, so she planted her bloodied blades in the thing's chest at her feet and pulled out her bow to start shooting the third monster. Soon, the second creature dropped and all their attention was focused on the remaining darkspawn which also quickly crashed to the ground.

Relieved to find none of them had been seriously injured, Kaslyn put away her Tamlen's bow. She retrieved her dar'misus, and used the rags the monster wore to carefully clean the black stains from the blades, before returning them to their sheaths. Seeing the black ichor that leaked from the corpse Kaslyn had dispatched, the Dalish agreed that leaving their arrows had been a wise decision. After hastily searching the bodies and collecting two, small pouches of copper coins, Kaslyn took the lead again and headed further west. Although they kept a careful watch, there was no trace of Tamlen. Eventually they came to the cave opening, where they paused for a moment before cautiously entering.

Merrill and Fenarel looked around curiously as they stepped into the first chamber. It was just as dark and dank as the first time Kaslyn had been there but the sinister pall that hung heavy in the air had grown markedly stronger since her previous visit. Kaslyn noted two more darkspawn bodies similar to the ones they had already seen but she was more interested in finding any signs of Tamlen. Her heart ached when she realized what was left of his scent was days old.

"So these are the ruins," Merrill commented softly, "Interesting." Once again the dismal and oppressive atmosphere commanded hushed tones from its visitors, and the mage continued to examine her surroundings with her eyes before quietly musing, "They're definitely of human origin yet elven artifacts are scattered amongst them. Nothing explains the monsters though." Her voice turned brisk, "But we must find Tamlen – or what's left of him. I can't imagine he's still alive with those creatures about."

Oh, Kaslyn had really needed to hear that. "Don't talk like that!" she insisted, "You don't know!"

Merrill turned compassionate eyes on her friend and apologized. "You're right. We should explore further before I go on about my fears. I'm sorry."

"Let's not waste any more time," Fenarel urged, "If Tamlen's alive, he needs us!"

They proceeded further into the ruins warily. Pausing by one of the misshapen bodies of the giant spiders, Fenarel caught Kaslyn's attention with a soft noise. He arched an inquiring eyebrow as he nudged the decaying corpse with his booted foot, and she answered with a short, silent nod. One corner of his mouth twitched and a fleeting expression told her he was impressed.

They crept through the doorway and into the hallway running north and south. Another darkspawn lay sprawled in the passage here and the other two elves looked their questions at Kaslyn who shook her head, indicating that these remains were not present on her first visit. Examining the carcass, they found the creature had been quickly and efficiently killed with a minimum of cuts in places of maximum vulnerability. The faintest scent of something else that was not darkspawn clung to the corpse, tickling their noses, but it was not strong enough for any of them to identify.

Peering in either direction, Kaslyn sensed no recent signs of Tamlen. Deciding to retrace the original route she and her best friend had taken the first time they were here, she turned south and they found another monstrous corpse lying in the floor in front of the statue of the woman holding the flaming bowl. This monster, too, had been dispatched by the same skilled fighter with the unrecognizable scent. They paused for a moment so Merrill could get a good look at the stone figure, and then they approached the next room.

The door was still open but the dead spiders had been kicked aside and their dry scent had been replaced by fresh darkspawn stench. Hastily exchanged glances assured they were all aware of the monsters, and the elves silently drew their weapons. Stepping just inside the door, Kaslyn drew her bowstring back and let fly with an arrow at a darkspawn standing in the southwestern corner underneath the cocoon she had searched with Tamlen's help. Movement caught on her left alerted her and, swiftly swapping her bow for her dar'misus, Kaslyn darted into the room as another darkspawn closed with her. After parrying its first strike, she was about to thrust her flaming knife into the darkspawn's neck when an arrow thudding into the back of her right pauldron caused her to miss and she realized there was a third creature in the room.

While Fenarel rapidly fired arrows at the original target, Merrill had stepped into Kaslyn's place inside the doorway. Spotting the shaft in her clan-sister's shoulder, she called, "Command me!"

"Focus on the first target," Kaslyn replied grimly. She stunned her opponent and took the moment's respite to take a quick view of the situation. Between Merrill's magic and Fenarel's arrows, the creature in the corner was nearly dead. She could hold off the one she was currently engaged with for a little bit yet, but the third one had a clear view of her. Fortunately, the partially open door provided cover for her clanmates, and deciding the archer was the next biggest annoyance, she called, "Behind you!"

"Yes!" Merrill answered

"I'll follow your lead!" Fenarel acknowledged.

The darkspawn shook off the distraction and Kaslyn again had her hands full. The creature's attacks were brutally obvious but, Creators, it was strong. From the corner of her eye she saw the first archer topple to the floor. Parrying a thrust at her vitals, she teased her foe around so she could see the other two elves adjust their positions to engage the remaining darkspawn archer, but she was soon forced to concentrate on her own battle. Eventually Kaslyn saw an opportunity and swept one long dagger through the creature's neck, neatly beheading it. She turned for the third monster but it was on its last legs. An arrow that shattered a portion of its ragged armor combined with a bolt of arcane energy and the remaining darkspawn dropped.

Kaslyn cleaned her blades again before putting them away and started yanking the three arrows from her shoulder and leg armor. None had penetrated. Unfettered by magic, the creatures were vicious fighters up close, but she had taken only a few minor scratches. Leaving Fenarel to examine the bodies, Merrill approached her. The Keeper's apprentice insisted on applying a lesser health poultice to one cut then startled the hunter when she brushed one hand under Kaslyn's bangs to feel of her forehead. Kaslyn looked at her curiously but Merrill only remarked, "You're a little warm."

Kaslyn wryly pointed at the body on the floor next to her.

"Perhaps," Merrill agreed reluctantly.

Fenarel rejoined them, displaying two more pouches of copper coins, and carefully handed an acid flask over to Kaslyn who tucked it away with the first. There was no evidence Tamlen had been in here lately and Kaslyn continued to retrace their original path. She led them north to the short hall with the statue and saw these doors were still open as well. Nothing was in the brief passage here but they could detect more darkspawn in the chamber beyond. Familiar with all the debris and the obscuring columns in the far room, Kaslyn silently indicated that they should let the darkspawn come to them. Fenarel nodded his understanding but Merrill looked slightly confused until Kaslyn whispered her instructions in the mage's ear. She nodded her comprehension, and when they were ready, Kaslyn moved forward through the hall.

As suspected, the first creature they encountered was not far from the second doorway and was on them quickly. While Fenarel and Merrill fired arrows and arcane energies at it, Kaslyn attempted to stun it, but unfortunately fell prey to its version of the dirty trick at the same time. Eventually blinking her eyes clear, she was alarmed to find Fenarel had harnessed his bow and was lunging at the darkspawn with his knife which was also ablaze thanks to Merrill's magic. Fenarel was a skilled archer but he was dismal with a blade. Letting him temporarily hold the thing's attention, Kaslyn nimbly dodged behind the monster and plunged her own blazing dar'misus into its back at the same time a second creature charged from behind a pillar at them. The first darkspawn tried to turn on the red-haired hunter, but Merrill had obviously weakened it with magic, and Kaslyn was easily able to parry its attempted strike before sweeping both her long daggers in unison to the left through its vitals then back to the right through its neck. By now the other creature was on them and wildly swinging a mace at both hunters. As Fenarel slashed at it with his fiery knife and Merrill pumped more arcane bolts into it with her staff, Kaslyn spun behind its back and with three sharp jabs, the thing was dead. Keen elven ears picked up the sound of a third monster's harsh, guttural breath, and slipping silently through the gloom between the pillars and the scattered piles of rubble, the Dalish hunted for their remaining foe. Sliding through the shadows around a column, Kaslyn spotted the darkspawn across the room, not far from the northwestern hallway. Soundlessly placing her knives on the floor, she drew her bow. The creature lurched as her first arrow took it in the chest, and when it raised its own bow at her, another arrow and a lance of magical energy finished it. The elves regrouped in the center of the chamber, cleaned their blades, and made certain no one was seriously injured. A search of the repugnant bodies yielded more copper coins, a minor lyrium potion, and a vial of a thick, dark substance.

"Deathroot extract," Kaslyn carefully tilted the bottle and identified the toxin, "Even a quick sniff of this sludge is enough to cause hallucinations."

"You keep it," Fenarel urged with a grin.

Kaslyn nodded and made certain the stopper was in tightly before putting the poison away carefully.

They explored the room but there was no trace of their missing clanmate. The smell of darkspawn was everywhere here and the Dalish continued cautiously into the northwestern passage. Kaslyn had just cleared the corner into the second north/south hall when there was a sudden clattering echo. Looking back, she saw both Merrill and Fenarel caught in a couple of well-disguised, leg-hold traps she had not even noticed. Before she could react, a bolt of green fire slammed into her side. Her head snapped around to find herself under attack by three more darkspawn, and her eyes widened as she realized one of the monsters was evidently a mage. Apparently the vile sorcerer was trying to utilize magic derived from the power of nature against the Dalish, but the People's lives were closely tied to the world around them. As a result, their bodies were more in tune with natural forces and the creature's offensive magic merely stung against Kaslyn's skin. Instantly she unslung her bow and started shooting arrows at the monstrous mage even as she ducked and dodged the barbed shafts of the two darkspawn archers.

Seeing their clanmate beset, the two snared elves frantically worked to free themselves. Fortunately the traps were meant to hold, not hurt, and eventually they managed to join her. Late into the skirmish, they both boldly placed themselves between their beleaguered clan-sister and their enemies.

"I am here!" Merrill called as she pointed her staff at the darkspawn sorcerer and began her own spell-casting.

"The Dalish will prevail!" Fenarel vowed as his longbow launched arrows at their foes.

With her friends covering for her, Kaslyn hastily smeared a health poultice along the reddened skin of her left side, where she had taken most of the hostile spells, then rejoined her clanmates in the fray. Soon the darkspawn sorcerer fell dead and the two remaining archers were quickly dispatched by the elves' concerted efforts. Yanking a few arrows from their leathers while the mage regained her energy, Kaslyn urged Merrill to continue a little further down the hall to examine the elven statue. The hunters turned their attentions to searching the repulsive corpses and were intrigued to find relatively superior armor and generally better equipment on the sorcerer than on the rest of its kind. After recovering another vial of deathroot extract, an iron dagger, and a small bag of copper coins, they joined the Keeper's First who was studying the statue.

"This is remarkable!" Merrill softly exclaimed as they reached her. "Do you recognize what this is?"

"Tamlen and I thought it might represent Falon'Din," Kaslyn ventured.

Merrill agreed, her fascination evident, "That might very well be the case."

After a brief explanation of the layout of the hall they were in, Kaslyn quietly volunteered to run a search of the far end while the others waited where they were. Fenarel insisted on accompanying her, however, and Merrill concurred she should probably go with them, but was clearly torn at abandoning the statue so soon. Kaslyn solved her dilemma by inviting the mage to remain with the figure while they checked the southern end of the passage for any signs of Tamlen. Merrill glanced worriedly at the hunters before peering down the dimly-lit hall. It was easy to see the corner from where they were, and she agreed that they would not be too far from each other should trouble arise. Swiftly trotting to the far end, Fenarel waited at the turn to stay within sight of both women while Kaslyn took the extra few steps to check the door. It was still locked and they returned to Merrill.

Kaslyn's heart had grown heavier with each explored chamber. She had not said anything to her clanmates but she had already known what they would find in the corridor beyond the elven statue. They had still sensed no recent trace of Tamlen in this passage and she knew the figure stood across from the last room in the ruins. If Tamlen was not in there … there was nowhere else for them to search here. Having already cleared the room on the other side of the locked door, it was obvious Tamlen had not come this way, but Kaslyn was determined to make no assumptions. She would _know_ for a fact he was not here by checking every square inch of these ruins personally. She and Fenarel rejoined Merrill, who was ready to continue, and they turned for the door. Kaslyn warned them about the charm trap, the undead previously encountered there, and what she had initially found past the closed door. While her clanmates waited apprehensively, the red-haired hunter gingerly crossed the dark circle. Nothing happened and they were all relieved. Kaslyn noticed that the unidentified scent they had barely managed to detect earlier was stronger here and she noiselessly gestured to the others that she smelled something human. None of them recognized the scent, although now that it was clearer, something about it seemed mysteriously familiar to Kaslyn.

Cautiously she pushed the heavy door open to the last chamber in the ruins. Instead of a mutilated bear, the elves were met with the sight of a tall, black-haired man regarding the shimmering mirror. His arms crossed before him, he stood motionless with his back to the door, plainly revealing the sword and dagger he carried over leather armor of a style that was foreign to the Dalish. Four darkspawn bodies lay sprawled on the stone floor around him. The elves exchanged curious glances between themselves then walked into the chilly room. He turned at the sound of their approach, uncrossing his arms, and suddenly Kaslyn recalled the blurry face she had seen in her fevered dreams. His voice confirmed what her nose had been suggesting.

"So you're the ones fighting darkspawn. I thought I heard combat," he greeted them pleasantly in a rich, deep voice. A few dark strands escaped the short tail confining the rest of his hair to fall over his dark brown complexion, and the expression under his midnight-colored beard and mustache was friendly as his gaze swept over them. When his black eyes came to Kaslyn, they kindled with recognition and wonder, "You're the elf I found wandering the forest, aren't you? I'm surprised you have recovered."

Reacting to his affable tone, Kaslyn replied in kind, "So you're Duncan, the Grey Warden who saved me. My name is Kaslyn of clan Mahariel."

Duncan's smile widened at her amiable demeanor and he remarked, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Kaslyn. The last time we spoke, you were barely conscious."

The other Dalish apparently took their cue from the red-haired hunter and the mage greeted him with a nod of her head, "Andaran atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens." She touched a graceful hand to her chest, "I am Merrill, the Keeper's apprentice."

"And I am Fenarel of the same clan," the tall blond hunter added. He looked at the man with some curiosity, "Did you … come here alone, human? Battling all those creatures?"

Duncan nodded at the young man. "Yes. Though I must admit, you took a great deal of pressure off me." His eyes returned to Kaslyn and he asked with some mild apprehension, "Your Keeper did not send you after me, did she? I told her I would be in no danger."

"No," Kaslyn answered, "Though we knew you might be here. We're looking for our brother, Tamlen."

Duncan's expression grew thoughtful as he regarded her. A great many things were falling into place for him now. "So you and your friend Tamlen both entered this cave? And you saw this mirror?"

"Yes," Kaslyn agreed, "Tamlen touched the mirror and I blacked out." She winced inwardly. That admission made her sound like such a novice, she thought. She was intrigued to notice Duncan's face become troubled.

Duncan frowned, "I see. That's … unfortunate." He noted their understated surprise that he would be concerned about their welfare. Like most of the Dalish, he surmised, they did not normally find considerate humans. He continued to explain. "The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror before; it is Tevinter in origin, used for communication. Over time some of them simply … break. They become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Tamlen's touch must have released it …. It's what made you sick – and Tamlen, too, I presume."

Kaslyn looked away and chewed her lower lip as her mind swiftly examined this information. If the mirror was made by the ancient Tevinters, there likely would be no one left who would know how to fix it. It was impossible to return to the Keeper with it: The mirror was far too heavy for any – or all - of them to move. According to the Grey Warden the thing was tainted, anyway, and she refused to put her entire clan at risk from it. She took a deep breath and decided she and Tamlen would be the last to fall victim to this evil thing. Her resolute gaze rose to meet Duncan's and she responded, "Then we should destroy it."

He inhaled deeply and raised his chin, wondering how much she had worked out. He scowled in accord with her steely tone and replied, "I agree. So long as the mirror exists, it is a threat to anyone nearby."

"I do not fear this sickness," Merrill spoke up, "The Keeper knows how to cure it."

Duncan might have imagined the doubt flickering through Kaslyn's eyes as he glanced toward the raven-haired apprentice. "She may have weakened it but she cannot cure it." His regard returned to the red-haired hunter. "Your recovery is only temporary. I can sense the sickness in you and it is spreading. Look inside yourself and you will see."

Despite being saved by the man, Kaslyn was not entirely sure she could trust him completely yet. Her gaze went briefly to her friends then back to him as she coolly replied, "Perhaps there is … something to what you say."

Duncan frowned, "Confirm it with your Keeper later, if you like. For now we must deal with the mirror … It is a danger." He turned and drew his sword as he approached the glass where color still gently swirled. With a single blow the mirror shattered with a loud crash. There was a bright, momentary flare and a short, rumbling growl which quickly subsided. Duncan slowly lowered his left arm from before his face and waited, but the glow of soured magic soon dissipated. He returned to the waiting Dalish. "It is done," he reassured them. His eyes sought Kaslyn, "Now let's leave this cursed place. I must speak with the Keeper immediately, regarding your cure."

"What about Tamlen?" Kaslyn reminded him.

"There is nothing we can do," Duncan answered.

Kaslyn frowned and insisted, "I'm still alive. He could be, too."

Duncan's expression became stern and his deep voice intoned, "Let me be very clear. There is _nothing_ you can do for him." He saw her face grow stubborn and explained, "He's been tainted for three days now, unaided. Through your Keeper's healing arts and your own willpower, _you_ did not die but Tamlen has no chance." Because he was gazing at her he caught the pain sparking behind her blue eyes and relented somewhat, "Trust me when I say that he is _gone_. Now, we should return."

Kaslyn felt her throat tighten but managed to ask. "Won't there at least be a body?"

"The darkspawn would have taken it," Duncan replied gently.

"Why would they take his body?" Fenarel asked, "Not to … eat it, I hope …." He swallowed audibly and all three elves looked aghast at the concept.

Duncan shook his head. "Darkspawn are evil creatures, and it's best to leave it at that." He glanced down and away from them for a moment before adding, "I'm … sorry."

Kaslyn was again intrigued that the man seemed genuinely perturbed by their plight. Still, Duncan obviously knew more than he was telling them. Tamlen may have called her soft for her dealings with humans but she was not stupid. "Why not just tell me what the cure is?"

"It's not that simple," the Warden answered. "I would tell you more but I must first speak with your Keeper."

Her gaze narrowed on him briefly. He was clearly not going to say anything else concerning the illness but she needed to know that no more would suffer as she and Tamlen had. Finally she accepted his reticence and asked, "Can we just leave the cave like this? Is it safe?"

Duncan was impressed that despite her own dire circumstances, Kaslyn was thinking beyond herself, and responded, "With the mirror destroyed, I doubt the darkspawn will return."

Merrill spoke up again, "Can we return later and search through the ruins? We could learn from many things here besides the mirror."

Duncan shook his dark head. "The cave is not safe. Everything here was exposed to the mirror's taint. If your people must come here, they should cleanse it with fire."

By now, Kaslyn had come to a decision. She had felt a barely noticeable twinge in her chest when Duncan had destroyed the mirror but when the glare had subsided, she had glimpsed the cavern opening beyond, where she had not been able to explore the first time. The faint trace of Tamlen's scent seemed to end at the mirror but it might be possible that he had managed to crawl somewhere through there. If she did not investigate now, she would always wonder, and she _was_ under the Keeper's orders to find her clanmate. "I'm not ready to give up the search just yet."

The only one there who appeared surprised was the Grey Warden. His black eyebrows arched uncertainly for a moment before he offered, "If you prefer, I can wait outside while you look around but I assure you, he will not be here." He paused then added, "I suggest, however, leaving sooner rather than later. You are sick, whether you feel it or not, and it does you no good to linger."

Kaslyn's blue eyes met his black ones squarely, but she was not belligerent as she quietly said, "I just want to look around to make sure." She intended to be thorough. She had to know.

Duncan sighed, "As you wish. I will see you back at my camp." It was no wonder she had fought off the taint with determination that fierce, he thought to himself as he strode from the room. As he left the ruins he paused to examine the darkspawn the Dalish had killed. They might be young hunters but the accuracy of their arrows and their obvious combat abilities were remarkable.

Kaslyn waited with downcast eyes until she could no longer hear the sound of the Warden's footsteps then turned her head slightly to address those behind her. "Merrill," she asked hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"What do you think has happened to Tamlen?" Kaslyn asked very quietly.

Merrill paused then softly answered, "I dread to think of it. If he is as sick as you were…." Her voice trailed off. She reached out and gave the hunter's hand a compassionate squeeze with one of her own, and said, "Even if the worst has happened, we cannot leave his body unburied."

Kaslyn nodded. She breathed a shaky sigh then asked, "What do you know about Grey Wardens?"

"Not much," the mage admitted. "They're an old order that saved us from darkspawn in the past but I thought they died out long ago." She glanced towards the door where Duncan had disappeared and said, "I'm told they deserve respect, though it was odd to see a shem in our camp for so long."

Fenarel asked, "So where to now, lethallan?"

Kaslyn jerked her chin at the opening behind the broken mirror. "The only place left," she answered, "Tamlen and I got this far. I wanted to explore further but Tamlen insisted we check out the mirror."

"Have you…?" Fenarel asked hesitantly.

Kaslyn shook her head. "No. His scent is days old and I haven't picked up anything remotely fresh. Have you?"

The tall hunter shook his own head negatively.

"Let's continue," Merrill gestured for Kaslyn to lead them up into the opening.

The Dalish examined the tall mound of dirt but there were no signs of any elven tracks. Scrambling atop the incline, they came across a half-buried, old chest and Kaslyn made short work of the ancient lock to pull out a pair of rough leather boots. Although the tunnel ahead was dark, enough light filtered in from the mirror chamber to reveal a long passage sloping downward. Several crumpled forms were visible and Kaslyn descended into the gloom to check every one of them. All seven skeletons turned out to be anonymous which proved both disheartening and a relief. Several massive roots with no apparent way through them blocked the end of the cave, and nearby they discovered another locked chest and a strange statue on the floor of the cavern. After Kaslyn quickly liberated a pair of heavy chainmail boots from the trunk, they turned their attentions to the stone bust. Without warning, they heard a rasping growl familiar to the red-haired hunter. Instantly, the Dalish turned and saw that all the skeletons they had passed on the way down were getting to their bony feet.

"By the gods!" Merrill breathed in horror.

"They don't bleed," Kaslyn smartly informed them, "but if you break them enough, they _will_ fall." She nudged Fenarel to get his dismayed attention and added, "The bones can be brittle - even to arrows. Get to work."

His head jerked with acquiescence as he reached for his bow. "I'll do it!" Before he could grab his longbow, however, the nearest three skeletons were on them. Merrill easily dispatched one with a roaring gout of fire from her hands. Kaslyn took a little longer to finish off the second one with her dar'misus then took the third one's attention so Fenarel could put away his knife. He tried to be stubborn and insisted on helping the smaller hunter - until Kaslyn pointed out they were taking arrow fire from the remaining four undead and could he please get on them with Merrill? He grimaced then did as he was asked.

Kaslyn broke a few more bones and the third skeleton fell motionless to the dirt. Her blades were not poisoned by any strange bodily fluids so she put them away, grabbed her bow, and joined the others shooting at the remaining undead. They worked their way up the tunnel, taking each awkward archer one by one, until the last one near the very top dropped. With the battle ended, the Dalish confirmed no one had any injuries, and then investigated the statue. It appeared to be a simplified representation of the head and shoulders of a stout man with a long beard.

"One of the Keeper's books mentioned a short-lived trade with the dwarves," Merrill mused. "I remember one commemoration said something about 'dwarves who dug too high, and too frugal, and struck elves'." She meant it as a funny story and Fenarel grinned appreciatively but Kaslyn could only nod. This was the last place left to search in the ruins and, as the Grey Warden had warned, Tamlen was not here. There was no trace to find and no trail to follow where he might have gone. Climbing back out of the tunnel, they checked the skeletal remains for anything useful, but the only thing salvageable was an old iron longsword that was plain but well-crafted.

Pausing near the broken mirror, Kaslyn regarded the shards and her eyes stung. She could not say how or why she thought so, but she somehow felt that Tamlen was not dead. She did not know if it was merely denial on her part but somehow she _knew_ that he was alive somewhere, even though he was far beyond her reach. Feeling the weight of a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, she reached up to cover it in thanks and found that the warm fingers belonged to Fenarel. Behind her, the other two elves exchanged an unhappy glance and Merrill hesitantly said, "The Grey Warden is waiting. He's probably right that Tamlen isn't here. We should return to camp."

Kaslyn nodded and tore her eyes away from the broken glass. She left the room and turned north then east, bypassing the chambers they had fought their way through, to go directly back to the very first hall and back out to the first atrium where they had entered. She hesitated again where the tiled stone floor met dirt. This was it. She turned and looked one last time into the ruins, saying a silent farewell to her clanmate, best friend, and first love, before she led the others out of the cave.


	3. Divergent Paths

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns DragonAge and all related materials – and most of the dialogue. I am simply grateful they allow others to play in their world._

_Because how you play a game is not necessarily how you tell a story … Although Bioware does a good job of weaving the two together. Bioware owns DragonAge, after all._

_[A/N - Yes, I tucked a little something extra special in the locked chest.] _

* * *

**Chapter Three – Divergent Paths **

The elves left warning marks carved into the nearby trees surrounding the cave entrance. If any other Dalish happened to find the place, they would know the cavern was not safe and required a fire cleansing. Afterwards, they retraced their steps and found the Grey Warden in his camp. Duncan had retrieved his bedroll and pack and was waiting for them. He did not ask what they found. Their quiet demeanor told him all he needed to know; the somber faces of the other two elves revealing more than the red-haired hunter's closed expression.

It did not take long for the quartet to return to the Dalish camp. Fenarel was almost immediately called aside to lend his strength helping to load some materials into one of the aravels, leaving Kaslyn, Merrill, and the Grey Warden to report to the Keeper. Duncan could not help noticing that unlike a human group of similar size, the Dalish camp was remarkably hushed and subdued. At first he thought this might be due to the grave nature of recent events but he quickly realized that the elves were naturally quiet to avoid attracting attention to themselves or to their location. He had been lucky to find them the first time.

Keeper Marethari, standing not far from the central fire, noticed their arrival and took in their appearance with gladness tempered with concern. "I'm relieved you have returned!" She looked at the Warden with some curiosity, adding, "And I did not expect to see you again so soon, Duncan."

"I was not expecting to return so soon either, Keeper," he politely acknowledged.

The older woman's eyes returned to her young clanmates and she quietly asked, "Dare I ask of Tamlen? What did you find of him?"

"Nothing. He's gone," Kaslyn replied tonelessly. She felt her throat start to tighten but clenched her teeth and swallowed her grief. She would not let go now. Not right now. The Warden had been correct when he told them they would find nothing of their clanmate. Still, she had searched throughout the ruins, and again outside when they had left, and there was no trace of Tamlen. He was just gone.

The Keeper's eyes darted to Merrill who nodded and bowed her head briefly. Keeper Marethari's expression was troubled as she regarded the aggrieved young hunter. "I see," she answered softly. She glanced down for a moment then looked back at her apprentice and resolutely inquired, "Merrill, what about the mirror? Did you bring anything back?"

"_I_ can answer that, Keeper," Duncan responded, "I destroyed the mirror."

"I intended to use it to find a cure for this mysterious illness," Keeper Marethari informed him. Her eyes sharpened on the dark man, "I trust you had good reasons for your actions?"

Duncan remained steadfast under her wise gaze and explained, "There is much to discuss, Keeper. I have learned a great deal since I was last here."

The Keeper eyed him shrewdly for a moment longer before she relented. "Let us speak privately within my aravel, then, Duncan." She turned and addressed herself to the young women still present. "Merrill, warn the hunters. If darkspawn are about, I want the clan prepared."

Merrill inclined her head in acknowledgment, "Ma nuvenin, Keeper. Right away." She strode off to follow orders.

The Keeper's eyes turned to the young hunter and her manner became gentle. Her heart ached for the loss of Tamlen and for the obvious pain his disappearance was causing the girl. "Kaslyn," she asked kindly, "allow me some time to speak with Duncan. Seek us out at my aravel later, and we can discuss your cure."

Manners drilled into her head long ago prevented Kaslyn from sassing the Keeper and asking why she was being excluded from a meeting that so obviously concerned her. She realized then she was much too unsettled to pay attention for very long, and trusting that her clan leader knew what was best, she nodded and quietly agreed, "Very well, Keeper."

Keeper Marethari looked at her as though following every thought in her head before requesting, "Tell Hahren Paivel what has occurred. He now has the sad task of preparing a service for the dead." She reached out and squeezed Kaslyn's shoulders sympathetically. Looking back to the Warden standing silently by, she invited, "Follow me, Duncan. I am eager to hear what you have to say." She turned and Duncan fell into step behind her as they left.

Kaslyn stood alone in the middle of camp. Thoughts scattered, she was suddenly uncertain of what she needed to do first. She considered visiting the aravel of Tamlen's family to tell them their son was … lost, but that was the Keeper's duty. Keeper Marethari would also be the one to decide if and when Kaslyn would tell them what happened as well as how much of the event the clan would be allowed to know. Judging by their serious expressions, Kaslyn figured it would likely be some time until the Keeper and the Warden were done talking. She was a little surprised Merrill had been given the task of warning the other hunters but the thought occurred that maybe the Keeper had generously meant to give her some time to herself. Feeling the extra weight in her pack, Kaslyn was reminded of all the junk she had accumulated in the last … well, several hours she had been awake. She turned her steps to Master Ilen, the clan Craft Master.

Master Ilen was a tall, lanky elder with steady, dark-blue eyes, who wore his long, silver hair in a neat braid to keep it well out of his way as he worked. She liked the master. He was firm in his expectations, but fair, and a good teacher who never seemed to need to raise his voice – not even during the infamous Dye-Fight Affair, as it came to be known. When Kaslyn found him, he was speaking to another hunter. Aylis wore the same vallaslin as the master, only the tattoo was a bit darker since he had not worn it nearly as long. He had dark brown eyes and his reddish brown hair was confined to a slim tail. Aylis was a meek but competent hunter and had gotten his pelt and vallaslin sometime after Kaslyn had returned with her own hide. She saw Master Ilen glance in her direction as she drew closer and he turned to welcome her.

"I am glad to see you well, Kaslyn, though you bring sorry news. Should our clan sustain no further losses, we'll count ourselves lucky," he greeted her.

"Thank you for the bow, Master Ilen," Aylis told him in his soft voice, continuing their conversation. "It is light and sturdy … much better than the one I made last year."

Kaslyn remembered that bow. Anything would have been an improvement over that. A lump rose in her throat as she suddenly recalled Tamlen's private observation to her that any weapon that heavy and unwieldy might as well still have the bark on it. She had laughed, before tempering the unkind thought by pointing out that Master Ilen had called her first bow 'fine firewood'. Tamlen's initial bow had shown great promise for a first attempt, and with his advice, her own efforts had drastically improved. She dragged her thoughts back to the present and focused on the business at hand.

Master Ilen smiled at the young man and said, "You are more than welcome. My father made it and used it against the Clayne tribes."

"I will carry it with honor," Aylis vowed breathlessly.

Kaslyn was familiar with the tale already but wanted some distraction from her own sad thoughts and quietly asked the mastercrafter, "I would like to hear the story of your father's battle."

Master Ilen turned his pleasant regard on her and replied, "Then I am proud to tell it." He divided a glance between the two young elves and began, "Our clan was one of the first to flee the Dales. When we came to Ferelden, the fiercest of the shemlen were the barbarians known as the Clayne." His eyes sparkled as he told them, "We didn't wait for them to attack us. Every Dalish clan in Ferelden united to bring the battle to them."

"We attacked them first?" Kaslyn inquired with some surprise. In her experience, the Dalish never initiated fights but were well able to defend themselves if they could not leave before a conflict broke out.

"They were barbarians without honor. They would have slain us without a second thought," Master Ilen assured them. "The ensuing battle went well for us. That day we carved out our reputation for being the deadliest archers." A proud expression touched his features, "Our arrows won us the right to wander these woods at will. It was this very bow that my father used that day."

"Thank you for the tale, Master Ilen … and especially the bow," Aylis said, "I will honor its history."

"Why would you relinquish such a relic?" Kaslyn asked curiously.

Master Ilen smiled again, "We are all the same clan. His hand is as my hand. I have relinquished nothing." He regarded her in a kind manner and explained, "It was my father who first spoke of the Vir Tanadahl: The Three Ways of the Hunter." His eyes became reminiscent, and he gestured to her quiver. "The first is the Vir Assan – the Way of the Arrow: to reach for our goal, unrelenting." He indicated the weapon Aylis held, "The second is the Vir Bor'assan - the Way of the Bow: to bend but not to break." He spread his hands wide, "The last is the Vir Adahlen – the Way of the Wood: we are as ancient as the forests, each tree a part of the greater land." He looked back at Kaslyn and said, "All Dalish are united in this: One day we shall have a homeland again. For together we are stronger than the one."

Kaslyn nodded her understanding thoughtfully. Remembering why she was there in the first place, she looked at the elder and inquired, "May I see your crafts, Master Ilen?" Before they had entered the camp, she, Merrill, and Fenarel had combined the loot they had gathered from the darkspawn and the ruins, including all of the materials and copper coins she had collected when she and Tamlen had explored. Duncan had briefly inspected the lot and assured them that neither the mage nor the tall hunter nor any of the items they had scrounged were tainted, so she felt no qualms in turning everything over to the mastercrafter.

Aylis was about to leave but paused and murmured towards Kaslyn, "You did not return with Tamlen. I … know what that means…. We all feel this loss." He reached out and touched her shoulder. Kaslyn could not speak but nodded and he left.

Master Ilen quickly inventoried everything then turned his attention back to her. "Is there something else you need, da'len?" He knew she had long had her eye on a particular bow he had crafted over the winter. It was one of his better longbows, with elegantly curved limbs adorned with the symbols of Andruil, the elven goddess of the hunt, and it would suit Kaslyn well. She surprised him, however. After one sad glance towards the bow, she sighed and asked if he had any better leathers in supply than the tattered ones she now wore. He glanced over her shoulder at the bow she carried and instantly realized what had happened when he recognized the weapon. As the Craft Master for his clan, he was familiar with every piece of leather, every weapon, and nearly every other crafted item in the camp. Understanding that she was not ready to set aside Tamlen's bow just yet, he responded gently, "Of course. Take whatever you need."

Kaslyn remembered to replenish the arrows in her quiver before looking over the stack of hide and picking out a full set of recently cured, reddish leathers. She thought about changing directly into them but decided she wanted to be clean first so she detoured through the vixens' aravel, gathered her bathing necessities, and headed to the discreet swimming hole at the foot of the nearby waterfall. Setting down the clean clothes in an out-of-the-way spot, she stripped off her old leathers, loosened her hair, and jumped out into the cool water. She dove for the bottom of the grotto and just reached it when a warning tightness in her throat caused her to hastily surge back up to the surface. She broke into air just as her grief broke through the surface calm she had so carefully imposed on it. Containing her sobs as best she could so she would not drown, she blindly groped for a nearby rock sloping out of the water. Sorrow over Tamlen's absence was coupled with fury at herself for not finding him, for giving up so easily, and despair that her so-clever self did not know where else to look for him. The boulder was sun-warmed and somewhat flat on top and she pillowed her face in her arms and cried until she had no more tears or breath left in her. She had no idea how long she stayed there but eventually looked up to discover she was being calmly observed by a very patient turtle who was obviously waiting to sunbathe. Wiping her eyes and sniffling, she whimsically excused herself and left the rock to him. Swimming back over to her belongings, she grabbed some soap and washed the blood and dirt from herself before climbing out, drying off, and dressing in her new clothes.

The deerskin breastplate and kilt were embossed with designs of hunting hawks, and oddly complimented the belt she had found in the ruins. The matching gloves were fingerless with the exception of her right hand with which she drew her bowstring. This glove covered her middle three fingers and the deerskin was cut thicker for her index, middle, and ring fingers so it would withstand heavy use by archers. The glove for her left hand was reinforced at the webbing of her thumb and the heel of her hand where the bow would be firmly seated. Her new boots were also made from soft deerskin and were perfect for hunters stalking prey. The whole set was both softer and thicker than her old armor had been but would still require some breaking in to fit completely comfortably. Still, there were considerably fewer holes in this leather than her old outfit.

After some hesitation, she decided to keep wearing her bearclaw necklace. Tamlen had worn the twin to it. She knew she had to start letting him go, despite the persistent feeling he might still be alive, but like his bow, she simply was not ready to give up every connection to him just yet; part of her wryly pointing out that it had been her bear, after all. Her breath jerked in a shallow sob but there were only enough tears to briefly blur her vision this time. She bowed her head and tenderly stroked the claws and teeth then wiped her eyes again, before running a halla-horn comb through her wet hair and leaving it loose to dry. After quickly wiping down her weapon harness and strapping that back on, she gathered her belongings, and returned to the camp where she deposited her things back under her bunk, and dropped off her old leathers with Master Ilen. A discreet check revealed the Keeper and the Warden were evidently still deep in discussion so she went to see her clan-mother.

Ashalle was the Hearth Master for their clan and kept everyone well fed. Her silvery blond hair was kept in a tidy bun at the crown of her head but a few wisps escaped to frame her kind face and her warm hazel eyes. The vallaslin she wore on her forehead had always reminded Kaslyn of the fires the elder tended as she prepared wonderful things to eat. Having raised Kaslyn as her own since the girl's parents had died before she could even form any memories of them, Ashalle's face lit up as she spied her clan-daughter approach, and she sighed with obvious relief.

"Thank the Creators you're safe! I questioned the Keeper's wisdom at sending you off while you're still sick but my doubts were misplaced." Ashalle peered more closely at the girl and asked, "You are still feeling well, dear? I've been so worried since that shemlen brought you back."

A corner of Kaslyn's mouth twitched upwards for her clan-mother, "Aneth ara, Ashalle. It's good to see you, too." She added, "You really shouldn't worry so much about me." Kaslyn had moved into the vixens' aravel when she had started her apprenticeship with the hunters and had not been mothered for some time.

Ashalle responded with one of her beautiful smiles, "I can't help it, dear." She paused, sobering, before she gently inquired, "Everyone fears Tamlen is dead. Is it true?"

Kaslyn dropped her eyes from the elder woman's gaze. She still could not make herself believe he was really dead but the truth sufficed just as well. Nodding once, she softly admitted in a hollow voice, "It's true. He's gone." She felt a few rogue tears start down her cheeks.

Ashalle reached out and drew Kaslyn into a comforting hug as she murmured, "That's awful. I know how much you and the lad care for each other. It was always my hope that you two … well, let's not dwell on it." She squeezed the girl tightly then released the young hunter and stroked her cheeks with gentle fingers, brushing away lingering tears. Her hands dropped when Kaslyn looked back up and wiped her own face clean with the heels of her hands. Ashalle chided, "You must be more careful. Your mother and father, may they rest in peace, would be horrified to see you take such risks."

Kaslyn, distracted somewhat from her aching heart by the usual complaint of her adventurousness, almost managed a tiny smile for her clan-mother and replied, "You always say that."

"It's true," Ashalle insisted. "Your mother was - ! Well, let's not talk about that. I'm sure you have plenty on your mind." She turned back to her spits and kettles.

"You've never spoken of my parents much, Ashalle," Kaslyn ventured.

The Hearth Master stirred the contents of the huge pot on the fire nearby as she answered, "What happened to them is a sad tale, and it's in the past. Reopening old wounds benefits no one."

Kaslyn had no past wounds concerning her mother or father since she never knew them. She considered her current heartache and thought maybe new pain might dull the old or they could numb each other at least. Ashalle was already being unusually expansive about her parents, so she persuaded her clan-mother, "Don't we Dalish strive to learn of our past?"

Ashalle gave her a wry look for her clever argument and responded, "True. Perhaps you're old enough to hear this, though it … hardly seems like the right time."

"Is there ever a _good_ time?" Kaslyn inquired dryly.

Ashalle sighed, "Very well. If I do not tell you now, you'll only wonder." She was well-acquainted with her clan-daughter's curiosity and the lengths the girl would go to in order to gain her answers. "Your mother, Lynna, was a hunter – one of the finest – and your father, Kasnir, was the Keeper before Marethari. He was with us for a very long time." She smiled reminiscently, both in memory of her friends and with the sight of their daughter so attentively listening now. "Your mother was from another clan and her elders did not approve of the match. She and your father had to meet in secret." Her pleasant expression faded as she continued, "One day bandits caught them alone in the forest. Your father was killed but your mother escaped."

Kaslyn cocked her head at the older woman, "Humans killed my father?"

Ashalle frowned angrily, "Yes, but also city elves, too. Those of our kind living with humans do not hold to the Old Ways."

Old Ways that forbade elves killing other elves, Kaslyn knew. She thought for a moment then admitted, "I always thought they died together." After all, whenever she had asked where her parents were, she had always been told 'they had come to a sad end' or something similar before the subject was abruptly changed.

Ashalle's unhappy expression softened and she answered, "Your mother held to life long enough to give birth to you but grief wracked her heart. One night, she … she simply walked into the moonlight and never returned."

That surprised Kaslyn. As badly as her heart hurt over the loss of Tamlen, she knew she still had to go on living - even if she did not currently feel like it. At least her mother had shared a child with her father but apparently that had not been enough. "My mother abandoned me?"

"She just … couldn't carry on without your father," Ashalle tried to explain, before continuing more briskly, "The clan decided not to discuss this around you, lest it poison your heart with sadness."

Kaslyn glanced down, absently pinching the inner corner of her lip between her teeth, as she considered what Ashalle had just told her. Oddly enough, she could appreciate why the clan had chosen to spare her this story. She could not help but wonder if she had known if she would have been as resentful of humans as Tamlen would have liked. She decided it was unlikely; even now she could not find any real hatred for them. Instead, her childhood had been relatively happy and carefree, thanks to her clan's foresight. "No, I understand," she reassured her clan-mother. She looked back up at the older woman and added, "I can't believe I've never heard this tale, though."

"Our people have learned to live with much sorrow. It seemed only right that we not dwell on it," Ashalle responded softly. Her expression brightened and she added, "Your mother did leave you a gift, and something of your father's for you to have once you were older. Perhaps the time has come…."

Despite her existing grief for Tamlen and fresh revelation of her parents' grim fate, Kaslyn could not help feeling a tingle of excitement, "Oh? Where is it?"

Ashalle smiled, pleased to see hints of life beginning to return to her clan-daughter's eyes. She reached for a nearby coffer and said, "Take this key. You'll see some chests behind the storage aravel by the halla pen. One of them was your mother's." She handed the young hunter a bronze key turning green with verdigris so that it appeared almost moss-covered, and added, "Its contents are yours, if you wish."

"Ma serannas, Ashalle…!"

"You're welcome, dear," the older woman replied with another warm smile. Kaslyn kissed her clan-mother on the cheek, and as she left to investigate what her parents might have left for her, she heard Ashalle call, "Try to make the evening meal, will you? You're nothing but skin and bones."

Reaching the storage aravel, Kaslyn recognized instantly which chest the key must open. She had tried repeatedly over the years to get inside that trunk. When she was small she was always shooed away from it and as she got older, the puzzle of that chest had encouraged her interest in defeating such devices. Yet despite eventually cracking all the other locks in camp, she had never managed to convince this one to cooperate. With some satisfaction, she inserted the old key into the keyhole and heard the tumblers coerced into place. She paused a moment to appreciate the heirlooms she was about to find, and then opened the lid. Inside she discovered a necklace made up of hundreds of wooden beads, each carved into the shape of an animal. Deer, hawks, wolves, and rabbits chased each other across its length. It was beautifully crafted and Kaslyn took some time to admire it. Perhaps it was what she could now identify as her father's Keeper blood in her, but like the halla-hide belt she had come across in the ruins earlier, she could feel a tickle of positive enchantment around the necklace. She might not know exactly what it did, but knew there was something extra special about it. Carefully looping the strands into her favorite belt pouch, she reached back inside the chest and pulled out an enchanted dagger; the elegantly simple hilt bound in midnight-blue leather, matching the modest scabbard. Wondering if it had belonged to her mother, she drew the fine dagger free and found it was made of gleaming silverite. In spite of all the time it must have been locked in the chest, the moon-silver blade still looked newly-forged, and after carefully checking the edge, one slit thumb later confirmed that it was sharp enough to cut easily through boot leather. Sucking her thumb, she considered it for a bit then secured the dagger into its sheath before slipping it into the back of her belt along with her hunting knife. It was a beautiful blade but Kaslyn recognized that she would need some time and practice to wield that talon-sharp edge without hurting herself with it. Returning the old key to Ashalle, she thanked her clan-mother with another kiss on the cheek and left.

Cutting through camp, Kaslyn saw that the Keeper and the Warden were apparently still talking. She wondered what they could have to discuss for so long and hoped it was nothing too serious. Having delayed as long as she could, she took a deep breath and sought out Hahren Paivel. He was in his usual place by the central fire, coordinating with everyone about the impending move, and making decisions about what cargo went where. His shaggy, snow-white hair was long enough to brush the collar of his shirt and he wore a shoulder-length braid before each ear. The vallaslin on his face emphasized his eyes which were a startlingly intense blue-green color and missed little. Behind those shrewd eyes, his memory was prodigious and he kept all the stories of their people in his mind – including misadventures of certain rambunctious youngsters under his care. Mate to Ashalle, the Elder had provided fatherly guidance to Kaslyn as she had grown up. Kaslyn had always loved the sound of his deep voice.

At her approach, he frowned and asked, "So you return with the Grey Warden but without Tamlen. What happened, da'len? Is he truly lost to us?"

The evident concern in her clan-father's rich voice brought her up short and she fought off the strong urge to curl up in his lap, cry, and ask him to make everything all better. There was nothing he could do, after all. She should have dragged Tamlen away from that stupid mirror. She should have found him. She should have done _something_. She should have done _more_. She bowed her head in shame. "It's my fault," she admitted in a thick voice, "I failed the clan. I failed Tamlen."

He stepped forward and abruptly embraced her. Surrounded by his strong arms, an uncontrollable sob tore itself up from her chest and, as more tears streamed from her eyes, she clung to his neck, weeping into his vest. As her despair gripped her once again, she heard his deep voice warmly reassuring her.

"You've done nothing of the sort, da'len. Do not blame yourself." Paivel was not surprised by her self-recriminations. Her father had been his best friend and he had been pleased to see his clan-brother's selfless traits had passed from father to daughter. He felt his own heart grow heavy at the loss of the other young hunter and sighed sadly while he soothingly stroked her hair. He had long been waiting for Kaslyn and Tamlen to come to him about bonding them as mates. "So …," he murmured softly to himself, "another of our children has perished… To think I'd live to see this…." He felt his clan-child's trembling eventually subside and he drew back slightly. He held on to her as she dashed the wet from her eyes and face, and when she had collected herself, he let go, leaving one arm comfortingly around her shoulders.

"It seems the will of the Creators that I sing the dirge for those I held in my arms as babes. I think I know why our immortal ancestors would sleep," he said with a pained expression. She tilted her head curiously at him. Looking towards the fire, he quoted softly, "Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky, Hast'ning to place one last kiss upon your eye. Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber, softening the rolling thunder. Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense, during this, your last hour, only silence." He bowed his head for a moment before once more squeezing Kaslyn's shoulders.

She had thought that through the years she had heard all of his tales and poetry but this one was new to her. Wiping her face dry again, she sniffled, "I don't recognize that poem."

"Our ancestors did not age as we do," he explained, releasing her, "The shemlen brought a quickening to our blood that changed us forever." His tone became the one he used when he was teaching, "Instead of death, those weary of life would pass into uthenera – the waking slumber. In doing this they made way for the young." He saw her dubious expression and smiled faintly as he raised his chin to reassure her, "It was supposed to be a beautiful time, a celebration of the elder's long life and contribution to his people." He shook his head, "Alas, we have no such ceremonies these days."

Kaslyn thought she might understand. She hesitated a moment, then, with only a slight catch in her voice, quietly asked him, "Will you prepare a service for Tamlen, please?" Fortunately more tears did not follow. This latest storm of grief with her clan-father seemed to have washed out the majority of her sorrow and she tentatively began to feel as if this fog in her mind might start clearing soon.

The Hahren nodded at once, "Of course. We've no body to return to the soil but we shall still sing for Tamlen. The Creators must come to guide him to the Beyond." He glanced off absently, part of his mind already starting to plan his words for the ceremony, and said, "Tell the Keeper it shall be done before the clan is ready to move on."

"Will the clan still leave?" Kaslyn asked hesitantly.

"Yes," he assured her. "The darkspawn are too dangerous to risk staying here."

Having fought several of the creatures by now, she knew that was true. Then, because she had always been able to bring her troubles to her clan-father, she softly asked, "But what if Tamlen isn't dead?" He looked at her intently and she explained, "The Grey Warden says he's lost but … I'm not sure."

"Even if he's not, we must leave soon," he answered gently, "We shall sing for him anyway and pray he does not suffer."

"Thank you, Hahren," she remarked, grateful for his understanding.

"Hmm…. You know, it's imperative now more than ever to pass on what we know to the young," he glanced around and saw the youngsters playing nearby. "Let us tell these children of the Fall of the Dales. You can honor me by sharing in the telling."

She looked around at the young ones, and agreed, "Certainly, Hahren."

"Come then … help me as I go along." He rested his hand on her shoulder to indicate he was including her as he waved the children over to them. As well as being second in authority to the Keeper and keeping the Dalish stories alive, the Hahren was responsible for educating the clan youngsters. Their faces lit up with excitement. If the Elder was including the hunter, it would more likely be an interesting story, not a boring lesson, and they quickly gathered, jostling each other for good seats on the ground. The Hahren's fine, deep voice rang out, "Children, hear of the Fall of the Dales! Hear the tale of what makes you Dalish." When they were settled, He glanced over to Kaslyn and invited, "Would you care to begin, da'len?"

There were a few quiet giggles as the children thought it funny that a hunter could still be called 'little child'. It made Kaslyn seem more like one of them but did not diminish the respect of her station. She felt a touch of her usual humor rise to the occasion and prompted by the Hahren's comment, said, "Well, children, it starts with a mommy and daddy elf …."

"Ahem…." She was abruptly interrupted by the Elder clearing his throat and the youngsters laughed again. "Let us start with the _history_ that makes us Dalish," he dryly encouraged, "When we were slaves." He saw the children's eyes widen and continued, "Yes, slaves to a _terrible_ empire the humans built on the darkest magic. When it fell, we became free." He gestured grandly. "We built a homeland in the Dales, worshiping the Creators and rebuilding the culture and history we lost in our long years of slavery." His voice hardened, "But the humans would not leave us be." The little ones gasped and the Hahren went on, "They were resentful: because we would not worship their gods and because we put our people first." He paused while the children exchanged puzzled glances. When the whispers quieted he continued in a hard voice, "Over the years, their nations grew cold toward the Dales. In their eyes, we were blasphemers and cruel tyrants." The children looked perplexed and jumped when the Storyteller's voice suddenly whipped out, "A war erupted. The humans invaded our homeland in the name of their one god, denouncing our 'sacrilegious' nation." His marvelously flexible tone grew sad, "And so the Dales fell. They took our lands and dispersed our people, forcing us to live in their cities and abandon our gods." His voice took on a note of pride, "But many of us refused to relinquish our ways. We instead chose to scatter to the winds, wandering the lands." He raised his chin and explained reassuringly, "To survive and preserve our culture, the clans stay apart until the day the Elvhenen have a homeland once more." His voice strengthened, "We shall then return the old ways to those of our people who have lost them." Once again his voice became ringing as he concluded, "We are the Dalish; Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path…."

"We are the last Elvhenan. Never again shall we submit," Kaslyn avowed, ending the tale.

Hahren Paivel turned to her with a grin on his handsome face, "The Oath of the Dales – and no smart-mouthed comment! Thank the Creators for small mercies."

Kaslyn could not help but return her clan-father's infectious smile and as she did so she felt her heavy heart ease somewhat.

The Elder was relieved to see her sadness beginning to heal and quietly urged, "I will let you get on with your business now."

Kaslyn glanced over towards the Keeper's aravel but there was still no sign of her or the Warden. She looked back at the Elder and admitted, "I'm afraid I don't have any more business at the moment, Hahren."

"It is unwise to leave clever hands idle – especially yours, da'len." He commented drolly and saw a hint of color come back into her pale cheeks. He was thoughtful for a moment then suggested, "I seem to be missing a few scrolls. They may have been left around the camp. Why don't you go find them for me, Kaslyn? And if you happen to come across anything else that needs to be returned elsewhere, you can take care of that as well."

The hunter nodded and went in search of the Hahren's missing journals. Methodically scouting the entire camp, she found several loose scrolls and papers as well as many odd things in strange places, including sharp weapons left near opened sacks and random pieces of armor or shields left in various wooden boxes. Soon she had an armload of myriad items. Eventually she came across a large wooden crate containing a nicely cured leather helmet. Kaslyn admired the cap briefly then realized the crate would be perfect to carry the rest of the awkward assortment of items she was collecting and dumped them in the box. Passing by her bunk, she slid the helmet into her pack then continued through the camp. Her sweep took her near the halla pen and she stopped to speak to Maren, the Halla Keeper.

Maren saw her coming and wiped her chin-length red hair away from her cheeks. The features of her face were emphasized by the triangular shape of her vallaslin and her green eyes lit with her smile when the hunter drew near. "Aneth ara, Kaslyn. It's good to see you again, though you bring sad news."

Kaslyn returned a sociable nod for her friend's greeting. Maren was as calm and soothing a presence as the animals she cared for. "How are the halla faring, Maren?" Kaslyn put down the crate she was carrying and went to rest her arms on the railing. Although it would soon be taken down, the corral was meant to keep the halla safe from predators as much as to keep them from becoming a nuisance idly roaming the camp.

Maren joined her clan-sister at the fence to admire her charges. "They fare well. The Keeper called for the clan to move on and they will be ready to take us." She gestured to one of the snowy elk, "One is heavy with calf but it shouldn't be a problem." Hesitating, she sobered then quietly asked, "May I ask of Tamlen's fate? Halla can sense the clan's distress but I never heard the outcome of your last expedition."

Kaslyn sighed but was somewhat reassured that no tears threatened this time as she answered, "I searched and the Grey Warden says we won't find him." One of the halla stags ambled over to where they stood and poked his nose into the hunter's face, nuzzling her cheek. Her smile came a little more readily as she stroked Myr's soft muzzle, and scratched behind his ears.

Maren's eyes became sad even while she appreciated the stag's antics and she softly said, "The halla mourn our fallen. No sound is more heart-wrenching than their mourning cry." She looked at Kaslyn who was still petting the elk and added in a relieved tone, "At least they won't be crying over you. They are quite fond of you."

Kaslyn's contented smile lingered and even grew a little stronger. She had always enjoyed tending the halla and getting to ride on their backs was an especial treat – one they did not permit many, she knew. Myr had often allowed her to partner with him for outrider duty when the caravan travelled to new places. Unbidden, a memory came to mind involving a particular incident with Tamlen. He had tried to show off by vaulting to the back of an unsuspecting halla. The elk was a member of their usual herd so instead of bucking, rearing, or otherwise reacting violently, the animal merely threw its head back and started shaking as if to shed water. Halla antlers, despite being somewhat heavy, grew long and fairly quickly and, like other halla-keepers, Maren kept them intricately shaped. Tamlen, on its back, was unexpectedly pummeled by the thick horns until the elk stopped, and the rash hunter slid off one side to hit the ground, black and blue. Kaslyn recalled she and Maren had laughed themselves aching and breathless. "The halla are beautiful creatures," Kaslyn murmured fondly.

Myr wiggled his ears and snorted in complete agreement.

Maren sighed affectionately, "I admire them for their strength and pride. They are equals, not servants like the shemlen horses." She reached out and patted the neck of the stag in front of Kaslyn. "At any rate, I do not envy the Keeper's decision. Hard times are ahead for our clan."

Kaslyn could only nod. With one last scratch, she bid them farewell and picked her box back up to finish her assignment. As she continued through the camp, she caught snatches of conversation from the clan.

One angry voice demanded, "Why has that Grey Warden returned with her? We have much to do before we can travel."

"Again the Grey Warden returns. This seems an ill omen," another wondered.

"Why did that shemlen return with Kaslyn? Does he have further business with the clan?" Someone impatiently wanted to know.

"This is a sad day. We mourn those passing into the Beyond."

"If only they had never found that cave," a hunter remarked, "It would have been better off undiscovered for another millennium."

"It is time for the clan to move," another agreed, "This accursed place has brought us no good."

One of the other lady hunters caught up with Kaslyn as she retrieved another of the Hahren's scrolls. "Where is Tamlen? Is it as we suspected?" Taliri demanded. Having no idea what the auburn vixen assumed, Kaslyn could only shrug silently. Green eyes flaring angrily, Taliri snapped, "This cave should be destroyed! Burned with fire! It's brought us nothing but ill luck!" Taliri was very pretty and could ostensibly have had her choice of any buck in the clan. Unfortunately, she had set her sights on Tamlen. The blond hunter had made it as plain as he inoffensively could that he had no interest in her, but his refusal had only whet her determination to have him all the more. Kaslyn knew that Taliri would be quite put out that the object of her pursuit was no longer available, and even more so with Kaslyn for having been the last one to see him. Taliri opened her mouth to berate her further, but Kaslyn, in no mood for such shrewish company, promptly excused herself on the grounds of finishing her task for the Hahren and left the other girl fuming.

A foreign scent suddenly caught her attention and Kaslyn followed it to the outskirts of the camp where an area had been set aside for archery practice. Junar was with a tall, skinny, young man she did not recognize and she paused to get a good look at him before approaching them. The stranger's ragged shirt was dirty and torn, and his trousers were more patches than pant but otherwise his clothing was fashioned in the style humans wore. His reddish-blond hair was cut very short, well away from his narrow features, and though he smelled peculiarly human-like, his ears were clearly pointed. Hitching the crate slightly higher on one hip, Kaslyn walked over to them, watching as Junar stopped and corrected the unfamiliar elf's form. Her clan-brother was endlessly patient and a good instructor, and, after firing an arrow to demonstrate his point, the hunter turned to greet her. The stranger finally noticed his teacher's distraction, and looking around he lowered his bow.

"Ah, it's good you're well, Kaslyn! You weren't here when Pol arrived, were you?" Junar asked, flicking errant strands of his rich, chestnut hair away from his fine, dark-blue eyes, which were enhanced by the thinly tattooed vallaslin arching over them.

Kaslyn shook her head as Pol announced, "I've heard of you. Everyone is talking about you and the other missing hunter. A Grey Warden brought you back here!"

"Do you know about Grey Wardens?" Kaslyn asked, aiming for a friendly manner.

"Only from stories I heard back in the alienage in Denerim," he replied modestly.

"Pol is a 'flat-ear'," Junar explained, confirming Kaslyn's guess. "He arrived here a few days ago from the human lands."

"I heard rumors in a nearby human village that a Dalish camp was close, and I hoped to find your hunters in the forest," Pol added.

Junar grinned at the city-elf, "You were fortunate I didn't shoot you, Pol. I thought you were a shem, and a bandit at that." The skinny elf's shoulders slumped and his brown eyes looked downcast as though he had been chastised, until Junar continued kindly, "You're not the first city-elf to rejoin his people. I'm sure you'll find life among us more satisfying than with the shems, if no less harsh."

Kaslyn felt a flicker of her usual amusement. Junar would be hard-pressed to shoot before thinking. His temperament was simply far too deliberate for snap decisions. Still, she agreed with his words to the newcomer and nodded reassuringly at Pol.

Pol perked up slightly then hesitantly asked, "In the alienage, we hear terrible stories about the Dalish. They're not true, right?" His gaze shifted anxiously between the hunters.

Kaslyn had an unexpectedly strong urge to tease him that the only truthful rumors involved sacrificing young elves to their gods but she held the wayward spark of mischief in check. After a quick glance at Junar, whose smirk told her he might have entertained a similar notion, she reassuringly answered, "You've nothing to worry about, Pol."

The evident relief on his face proved her restraint had been worthwhile and he responded, "Thank you. The clan has been very kind and welcoming. I never expected it to be like this."

"I've never seen a human city," Kaslyn found herself asking, "What's it like?"

Pol's eyes widened. "You've never been to a city?" He looked back and forth between the two Dalish hunters but they both shook their heads negatively. "Surely you've at least visited a town?"

Junar shrugged a broad, leather-clad shoulder. "Eh, we occasionally trade with the shemlen in small villages but only a few in the clan can undertake that task."

Pol absently shook his head and quietly admitted, "I can't imagine never having seen a city." He blinked then focused his gaze back on them and quickly answered, "It's … crowded, with buildings all squeezed together. There are people everywhere, and it always stinks." He wrinkled his nose distastefully.

Kaslyn tilted her head and asked, "And elves live with the humans?"

"Only if they're servants," Pol told them. "Most of us live in a part of the city called an 'alienage', separated from the humans by walls. That's where all the poorest folk live – laborers, dockhands, and thieves …, and that's if you're lucky."

"That hardly sounds like freedom," Kaslyn replied with a small, anxious frown.

"We don't think about it like that. To most folks that's just how it is," Pol answered.

Kaslyn nodded uncertainly then asked, "Do elves from the city learn to fight or shoot a bow?"

"Andraste's mercy, no!" Pol exclaimed, shaking his hands at them with his vehemence. The startled Dalish looked at him with wide eyes. "No one is allowed to walk around with _any_ weapon," he quickly explained. "Fighting just gets you arrested. I've never had to leave the city before, much less learn how to hunt," he admitted awkwardly.

Kaslyn thought he must actually be fairly brave to have left everything he knew and take a chance at starting a new life with the Dalish. She raised one eyebrow at him and gently inquired, "We hear city elves don't know what it means to be elvhen."

Pol looked at her, "Well, back in the city we hear the same about you – stories about Dalish bandits attacking people for no reason."

"We would never resort to banditry!" Junar protested emphatically.

"I'm just saying that's what we hear," Pol hastily pointed out, "and it's elves who say these things, too, not humans."

Kaslyn shook her head. She glanced between both men and tried to reassure them, "They just don't know the truth."

"Even if they did," Pol said hesitantly, "I honestly don't think most of them would want to leave. Wandering and hunting doesn't sound like much of a life."

Junar snorted and scoffed, "At least they would live as free men and as equals."

Pol shrugged diffidently, "Maybe, but to most elves I know, the only difference between them and humans is how much coin they have. Coin is the great equalizer, not living free."

Kaslyn's gaze narrowed briefly on the young man and she asked, "Why did you leave the city?"

Pol shrugged uncomfortably, "I got into trouble for stealing." He saw the Dalish exchange a fleeting look and continued hurriedly, "I'm not a thief…! We just never really had a choice." His eyes went to the ground before him as he explained, "Mother was a maid and I was lucky if I could get work at the docks. You make a living however you can, right?" He glanced between them and Kaslyn saw his eyes were sad. "When Mother died, I got drunk, and was caught picking a guard's pocket. They were going to hang me but I escaped, and … well, here I am." Pol's head hung low, obviously awaiting their reproach.

Kaslyn had no way of knowing if this story was true but she chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. She exchanged another glance with Junar and told Pol, "You won't have to resort to that anymore."

Pol looked up and his narrow face brightened immediately, "I'll do my best to adjust and fit in … I never dreamed you'd be so welcoming." He quietly admitted, "I thought at best you might hide me for a bit." He chuckled and added, "I'm glad I was wrong."

Kaslyn was pleased to see signs that he was beginning to come out of his human-induced insecurities and relax. She suddenly remembered the box digging into her hip and told them, "I should go."

"Of course," Pol answered politely, "I hope to see you again."

Junar winked at Kaslyn and pointed out, "He'll have to learn how to handle that bow quickly, then."

Pol rose to the challenge as he glanced from Junar to her and amended, "It was good to meet you. Perhaps I'll get to hunt with you some day."

Kaslyn was returning a few wayward hearth tools from her box to Ashalle when Jerinda came up to her. Her long, dark-brown hair complimented her warm brown eyes and pretty, dark skin that nearly hid her fine vallaslin. Jerinda was the Hunt Leader of the clan and oversaw the training and assignments of all the clan's hunters. She rested one hand on the small hunter's shoulder and squeezed it sympathetically. "I know Tamlen was your friend. We feel your loss."

Kaslyn swallowed thickly and silently nodded her thanks. Afterwards, she stopped by Master Ilen's aravel and delivered the odd assortment of other items she had collected, along with the crate, and was thanked for her diligence. On her way back towards the Hahren, she came across Fenarel and Merrill talking together.

"I wish we could have found Tamlen. If those creatures … oh, I can't bear to think about that," Fenarel complained. He quietly asked the mage, "Why do think the Grey Warden won't tell us about this cure? It seems rather cruel to withhold it."

"I've no idea," Kaslyn answered. Her unexpected appearance caused Fenarel to jump, vaguely amusing the hunter and putting a faint smile on the mage's face.

"Keeper Marethari won't let him withhold it," he assured her. "I say we get your cure, move the clan north, and put this all behind us."

Oh, sure, Kaslyn thought tiredly, because it will all be just that simple. She sighed and glanced at Merrill.

Merrill looked at the tall hunter with a frown of confusion for that fatuous declaration. She turned to Kaslyn and said, "I wish we'd had more time to examine those artifacts… perhaps another time if the Keeper thinks it wise."

Kaslyn shrugged at her clan-sister and excused herself from them. It was doubtful they would ever see this exact area again. She made a quick detour by her bunk so she could quickly brush out her now-dry hair and sling it back into the usual tail, then returned to Hahren Paivel with his missing journals. She almost wished she had not. He still had the children collected around him and they were talking of recent events while the Elder helped them come to grips with the loss of one of their clanmates. Some of the young ones' comments caused Kaslyn's heart to ache anew.

"I miss Tamlen. I want him to come home."

"When I grow up I want to be just like him or Kaslyn."

"Is Tamlen dead? Everyone says he's not coming back."

Something must have shown on her face because after thanking her for her efforts, the Hahren excused himself and briefly disappeared into his aravel with his papers. When he returned, he indicated that Kaslyn should sit on a nearby bench and when she did so, he set next to her a book, pen, and ink jar. "Write down everything you can recall, da'len, so we may remember what happened to Tamlen."

He brushed a gentle hand over her hair as Kaslyn nodded and got to work. She opened the journal and flipped pages until she got to the blank sheets towards the end. Picking up the pen, she began to record the sad tale. As she did so, she caught snatches of the Elder's lessons to the children. He spoke of many things, including their history from the glorious former elvhen capital of Arlathan, the lost city where their immortal ancestors practiced magic mortals could only dream about, to the tragic enslavement of their people which cost them their language, their history, and their immortality. He explained to them that there was so little for the eventually freed slaves to recover that none of the Hahrens knew of any books that recorded anything of their previous existence which was why they tended to write down so much now. One child asked a question Kaslyn recalled posing to the Elder, too: why did the humans allow them to exist if they hated the elvhen so much. She looked up at the same moment the Hahren spared a glance in her direction. He looked back at his audience and, with a reassuring expression, gave the little girl the same answer: apparently the humans had no real choice. Dalish clans were scattered and rarely gathered so they would remain difficult for any organized effort to destroy. He also pointed out they had nothing the humans could want in the way of land or treasure to tempt them either. He reassured her that even though they always moved before anyone could grow too angry with them, the Dalish were not cowardly, but proud and as the last of their kind, they intended to survive. The little girl then asked why they were always letting the shemlen drive them off. The Hahren indicated Kaslyn working nearby and explained that the clan's hunters could slaughter the entire nearby village if they cared to, but at the cost of bringing the shemlen king's rage down on their heads. The villagers were simple and had simple fears, he told them, and this was their land, so the Dalish would go peacefully. A little boy asked what happened to the elvhen that did not join the Dalish and the Hahren glanced in the direction where Junar was teaching Pol archery before explaining that they remained in human cities, forgetting all they once had, differing little from their shemlen masters, and knowing nothing of the lore or why the Dalish kept it. Another little girl inquired if they would ever find a homeland and the Hahren assured her they could hope to find a new home one day, where the Dalish and the flat-ears would build a land greater than even Arlathan and once again become one people; where the Dalish could teach the city elves their lost lore and the flat-ears could teach the Dalish to understand the shemlen so that all races might truly live in peace. Eventually he released the children to their own pursuits. He returned to where Kaslyn had straddled the bench to use as a desk and had completed her task. Looking through the pages, he nodded his satisfaction with her efforts, careful not to let the ink on the last page smudge.

"Hahren, did elvhen ever live in caves?" Kaslyn asked as she continued to doodle on a scrap sheet of loose parchment.

"I've never heard of such a thing," he responded absently, "But in the days of ancient Arlathan, we lived free and spread far across the continent." Then he looked at her and added, "We were as varied as the shemlen, though fewer in number. Perhaps some of us lived in caves then but all knowledge from that era is lost."

Kaslyn hesitated before asking, "What do you know about darkspawn?"

He paused and examined another one of the pages she had detailed and said, "Only that they eat living flesh and lurk in underground tunnels once ruled by the durgen'len, the dwarves." He looked at her somberly, "In the last Blight long ago, the Grey Wardens all but wiped them out. Should they return, all races will shudder."

Kaslyn met his regard with understanding. Looking around, she saw that at long last Keeper Marethari and Warden Duncan had finally emerged from the Keeper's aravel. "I should go," she told the Elder.

His gaze travelled in the direction she was looking. He thanked her for her comprehensive record before he said, "Of course. May the gods guide your path, da'len."

Kaslyn drew a deep breath to calm her nerves, squared her shoulders, and then casually walked over to the Keeper and her guest. They appeared to be talking quietly so the hunter waited a polite distance away to be noticed. Now that they were in the afternoon sunlight, she found herself fascinated by the gold earring flashing from Duncan's right ear and wondered at the story behind it. Eventually they both glanced in her direction. Only when Keeper Marethari beckoned with a tilt of her chin, did Kaslyn approach. To her surprise, however, it was the Grey Warden who addressed her first.

"Your Keeper and I have spoken and we've come to an arrangement that concerns you, Kaslyn," Duncan told her. "My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure. When I leave, I hope you will join me. You would make an excellent Grey Warden."

Kaslyn's eyebrows arched and her jaw nearly sagged open in disbelief. That was certainly not anything she might have imagined coming out of their conversation. She blinked and looked at the older woman and asked, "Am I to become a Grey Warden, Keeper?"

Keeper Marethari nodded with a sad look on her face and replied, "Yes, da'len. Your life depends on it."

Now Kaslyn's eyes rounded and her jaw actually sank a bit. She blinked several times, swallowed, and started gathering her scattered wits as Duncan explained.

"The darkspawn taint courses through your veins. That you recovered at all is remarkable," he glanced at the Keeper then back at the young hunter. His tone took on a cautionary note, "But eventually the taint will sicken and kill you, or worse. The Grey Wardens can prevent that, but it means joining us."

Kaslyn had no idea what to think, say, or do about this information. Her eyebrows came back down when she frowned at Duncan and said, "I will not be asked to join out of pity."

He shook his head and replied, "This is not simply charity on my part. I would not offer this if I did not think you had the makings of a Grey Warden." His eyes sharpened on her. "Let me be clear: We go to fight the darkspawn, a battle that will take us far from your clan, but we _need_ you and others like you."

"Can't you just give me the cure?" Kaslyn asked.

"The cure is only found by joining the Grey Wardens." Her expression became skeptical and Duncan, clearly considering his words, explained. "As sole protectors against the darkspawn, we're granted some…," he glanced away before regarding her, "…immunity to the taint." His expression became firm, "But this is not charity. We enlist only the worthy and you have certainly proven yourself." His hesitation was almost unnoticeable as he emphasized, "Should you join, it's unlikely you'll ever be able to return here."

Kaslyn went from a mind blank with shock to one overflowing with countless questions. She wondered what he had seen of her to make him think she would make such 'an excellent' Warden? What had she done to 'prove' herself to him? Why had he apparently convinced her Keeper she was somehow 'worthy' of this possible cure? If it was just because she had gotten sick, she thought, wouldn't that only demonstrate how inept and bumbling she was? One thing about it, she admitted to herself, he had not made the promise she could always return home, and she had to admire his forthrightness that she would likely not see her clan again, should she leave. "This is… very sudden," she murmured, still uncertain what to think or how to react. She looked at her Keeper and had to know her thoughts on the matter. She felt her throat tighten at the very idea but she asked, "Is the clan sending me away?"

Keeper Marethari responded, "A great army of darkspawn gathers in the south. A new Blight threatens the land. We cannot outrun this storm." She saw the young hunter's posture straighten at the implications and raised her own chin in acknowledgement as she continued, "Long ago the Dalish agreed to aid the Grey Wardens against a Blight, should that day arrive. We must honor that agreement." She paused and her unhappy expression grew solemn, "It breaks my heart to send you away. As it would to watch you die slowly from this sickness. This is your duty and your salvation."

Kaslyn went very still. The thought of leaving her clan, forever, hollowed her center and left her feeling gutted. In a rough, quiet voice she asked, "Is this the only way?"

The Keeper answered, "Who knows what the future holds? Here our paths diverge. You may never find us again." She reached out, catching the hunter's tangled fingers between her warm hands, and softly said, "I cannot express my sadness at sending one of our daughters off into such danger, away from the clan that loves her." Her voice grew stronger, "But if this is what the Creators intend for you, Kaslyn, meet your destiny with your head held high. No matter where you go, you are Dalish. Never forget that." Marethari's hands tightened once before dropping to her sides.

Kaslyn looked away and chewed on her lower lip, rapidly considering everything they had said. As comforting as the thought was to scream and pitch a fit about the situation, there would be no real use in it. According to the Grey Warden, she was still tainted and, if she stayed, she would eventually die a slow, painful death – or worse, whatever that meant, but it did not sound good – and her clan would be forced to watch. She could not inflict that on her people. If she left with the Grey Warden, she might live but she would probably never see her clan again. Either way ultimately meant leaving her home. Her Keeper's words about duty and salvation remained with her most strongly, as did the assurance that no matter where she went, she would always be Dalish. No one could take that from her. If she stayed: she _would_ die, but if she left: she _might_ die. The choice was obvious; the decision startlingly easy; the execution … painfully difficult. She would accept her Keeper's wisdom: if this was what she was meant to do, she would meet her destiny as a Dalish hunter should. She took a deep breath and let it out. She raised her head, her gaze squarely meeting Duncan's black eyes, and solemnly told him, "Then I accept this privilege, Duncan, if you'll have me."

Duncan's demeanor relaxed. He crossed his arms over his chest so one loose fist rested on each shoulder and formally bowed to her from the waist as he said, "Then I welcome you to the order, Kaslyn. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us but they have always served with distinction."

Keeper Marethari appeared sad, glad, relieved, concerned, and proud all at once, although her eyes were clearly sorrowful. She raised her chin at her hunter, and pulling a ring off one of her fingers, said, "I know you'll do your clan proud, Kaslyn. Take this ring," She folded the hunter's fingers around it. "It is your heritage and will protect you against the darkness to come."

"A valuable gift," Duncan acknowledged, "So … are you ready to go?"

"Now?" Kaslyn blinked.

"I have already waited longer than is wise. You can afford less delay than I can," the Warden replied.

Kaslyn hesitated before quietly admitting, "I would like to stay for Tamlen's funeral."

After regarding her for a moment Duncan gently conceded, "We have much ground to cover, but I cannot deny you that. Say your farewells … then we must be off."

Keeper Marethari put a comforting arm around Kaslyn's shoulders and led her towards Hahren Paivel so they could begin the service. "Come then, da'len. Before the Creators guide you from us, let your clan embrace you one last time …."

Although the occasion was meant to honor Tamlen, Kaslyn could not help but feel it was, in a way, her funeral, too. Tamlen was lost to the clan, and soon she would be as well. After the last notes of the final song faded, Keeper Marethari stepped forward and announced that Kaslyn had been honored to join the Grey Wardens and would be leaving them shortly. The tribe was shocked and silent after which the commotion broke out. Kaslyn slipped away to retrieve her gear but not before she glimpsed Ashalle talking animatedly to the Keeper with Hahren Paivel and the other elders nearby. Duncan had been invited to remain at a discreet distance during the ceremony and stayed where he was while the rest of the clan lingered, talking amongst themselves at this unexpected outcome. Kaslyn went to the vixens' aravel, where she paused and looked around uncertainly. She remembered the ring the Keeper had bestowed on her, clenched in an iron fist during the entire memorial, and took a moment to finally examine it. The band was carved from a piece of willow with images of foxes and hares decorating it and held a subtle tingle of magic. Kaslyn admired it briefly then slipped it onto her left hand. She quickly gathered her hunting gear and what few personal things she had, and stowed them in her pack with a few other useful items. Grabbing a couple of spare blankets and her bear pelt, she rolled them up tightly in a waterproof tarp, and secured the bundle under her knapsack. She looked around the place she had slept for more than the last year, inhaling deeply to memorize every detail of the scene. For good measure, she swiftly folded her bed away and tidied the spot so her clan-sisters would not have to do so. Struck with sudden inspiration, she scrounged a couple of other things together … and realized she was stalling. There was nothing else to do but face her clan one last time and leave. With a last look around to make sure she had not forgotten anything, she sighed, shouldered her pack, and left the landship.

Everyone in camp had gathered in the hollow where Ashalle's cooking fires were. Kaslyn thought about Keeper Marethari's words and decided she did not want her departure to be remembered with sorrow. That was not who she was. So when she embraced or clasped hands with each member of her clan, she made it a point to make some comment to encourage, comfort, or bring a smile or laugh. Soon the atmosphere was somewhat less somber than it had been though no less painful.

"Listen to Junar, Pol, and you'll learn to shoot a bow in no time. He's one of the best archers in the clan." The skinny elf seemed amazed she would have something to say to someone she just met but nodded his head and smiled at her. She turned and hugged Junar, who was standing nearby. The hunter appeared gladdened by her compliment but he still wore an apprehensive expression. She eyed him encouragingly. "I'm not dead, Junar," she gently chided him, pleased her voice did not crack, "I'm just starting a new adventure!"

She hugged Fenarel as well. He still looked stunned by the turn of events. "I will miss you terribly, Kaslyn," he told her with a hoarse voice.

"I'll miss you, too, Fenarel," she reassured him, her own voice starting to get rough. His expression remained doleful until she startled him with a sly expression and the fierce admonishment, "So since I won't be here: for the love of our clan – learn to use a blade!" His eyes widened for a disbelieving instant then a laugh escaped and the tension around them eased as the other hunters standing nearby heard her comment and chuckled.

Kaslyn was the recipient of a few surprises as well. She exchanged a quiet good-bye with Maren, who gave her an elaborately carved halla horn. Reaching Master Ilen, the Craft Master gave her a small pouch of coins, saying, "It's not enough to cause trouble, da'len, but should help, at least a little." At that point he produced the beautiful longbow she had long admired. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, taking a step back, but he took her hand not holding the money, and pressed the bow into it. "It may not have a history but you'll provide one for it soon enough, yes?" He assured her, "When you're ready."

Breath caught, she did not know what to say. Quickly she put away the money bag, slipped the bow over her shoulder, then squeezed his strong, calloused hands and thanked him profusely. As difficult as that was, it only got harder. The next contribution came from her clan-mother.

Kaslyn could not bring herself to speak when they embraced. To her astonishment, Ashalle also pressed a small bag on her. One whiff identified it contained various herbs and spices, as well as some extra provisions. Evidently the hearth master did not trust her voice either but as they hugged again, for likely the last time, she whispered hoarsely, "Be careful … and … don't forget to eat, dear. You're all skin and bones…." Kaslyn could only nod and kissed the older woman's tear-stained cheek.

A half-step to Ashalle's right stood Hahren Paivel. His was possibly the hardest good-bye for her. The Elder presented her with a slim, shoulder satchel. She peeked inside and discovered two journals and a small box of recording implements. When she looked back up at him, his eyes watered and he told her, his deep voice now gruff, "I expect a full accounting of your journeys, da'len. Mischief and all…."

She smiled for him and in a voice equally thick, obediently replied, "Yes, Hahren." Her vision blurred and her clan-father embraced her tightly. She clung to him equally hard, and managed to blink her eyes clear before they parted.

Kaslyn's heart lightened somewhat when she reached Merrill because she had a special surprise for the mage. From a pouch on her belt, she produced the figure the humans had passed to Tamlen and gave it to her clan-sister along with a small roll of parchment. Merrill's mouth dropped open at the sight of the little statue and she looked at Kaslyn inquiringly then she opened the roll and her breath stopped.

"I know you always wanted to find something from our past, sister," the hunter told the mage. "Duncan said it was safe. Since the cave wasn't though, and I figured you probably wouldn't get a chance to return there, I thought I'd do my best to bring the important parts of the place to you." In great detail, Kaslyn had sketched the ruins, the large elven statue, and the mirror before Duncan shattered it. Merrill's breath came back with a gasp when she reached the last page. Kaslyn had added a montage of Merrill and several of their clanmates – including Tamlen – with one small picture of herself. They hugged for a moment, and Kaslyn huskily whispered in Merrill's ear, "Don't forget me, sister …." When they parted she added in a slightly louder voice, "and don't be so _good_ all the time." Kaslyn managed a mischievous wink as a shaky laugh escaped the young mage who nodded her head while wiping at her eyes.

At last, the hunter turned to Keeper Marethari. The two women clasped hands. "Never forget your clan loves you, Kaslyn," the Keeper told her, placing a motherly kiss on her forehead.

"Ma serannas for _everything_, Keeper," Kaslyn replied. Her throat threatened to close but she fought down her grief long enough to say, "I will never forget you." She spent a moment settling her new belongings then took a deep breath and turned towards Duncan who waited silently nearby. He nodded at her and they started to leave. As they climbed a slope out of the camp, Kaslyn slowed and turned to regard her clan one last time. Sweeping over the whole group, her gaze was finally caught by Hahren Paivel; their eyes held together for a long moment before he looked away. Her face dipped once briefly as she turned to follow Duncan, but she made sure to keep her head held high as tears streamed from her eyes. She was determined that her tribe would not see a pale girl leaving in desperate sorrow but a Dalish hunter proudly fulfilling her duty. With that thought, Kaslyn walked away from her clan.


	4. Ostagar

_[A/N – My sincerest apologies for the wait for anyone still interested in this tale. My husband usually proofs my scribbles but he lagged partway through. Despite assurances he would finish, he somehow never got around to it - imagine that. So I combed through this time and again in the pursuit of perfection. Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for the delay in posting it. This is the Information Dump chapter for anyone who has never experienced DragonAge. I did try to include some bits of action and points of interest to try to prevent the story from bogging down too much. For those in the know, Dog is modeled on the Witherfang skin. Action picks up in the next chapter - Promise!]_

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns DragonAge and all related materials (and most of the dialogue I should have mentioned earlier). I am simply grateful they allow others to play in their world._

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**Chapter Four – Ostagar **

That night as she and Duncan sat across from each other at a small campfire, Kaslyn came to the conclusion that leaving home was surprisingly easy. Only like ripping her beating heart out of her chest and walking away from it, her sarcasm dryly agreed. Fortunately, Duncan did not aggravate the situation with talk. The Dalish were renowned for their ability to cover ground, and she had at least proven that true. Despite leaving in the middle of the afternoon, they made good time and managed to put a considerable distance between themselves and the clan before Duncan suggested they make camp for the night. Kaslyn had distracted herself during the westward trek by pondering why the Grey Warden had chosen to leave so abruptly. He claimed she did not have much time but she did not feel unwell. After much thought, she eventually concluded that had they spent the night with her people, the hours of anticipation would have been worse than the actual departure. It was better the parting was quick and clean. Deciding not to dwell on the painful separation, Kaslyn raised her eyes from the fire to watch the man. He was studying a map. Having never spent any significant time around humans, she had been a bit startled by his voracious appetite. The two rabbits she had hunted had disappeared quickly. Then again, she had not been hungry. Finally, she decided to break the silence between them.

"Duncan…?" He looked up at her with an interested expression and she asked, "Is there some … title of respect that I'm supposed to be using to address you? 'Warden', perhaps?"

He smiled, his white teeth bright against his dark skin in the firelight, and answered, "No. I would be pleased if you simply used my name." He tilted his head inquisitively and asked, "Is there a proper way I should address you?"

Kaslyn's eyebrows arched and she shook her head negatively. "I'm just Kaslyn to everybody I know." Her breath caught briefly and she felt her throat tighten a little. They had just left everyone she had known. That touched on something else that prowled in the back of her mind. She swallowed the lump in her throat and eyed him for a moment more. He obviously had the Keeper's respect and Kaslyn felt she needed a bit of wisdom right now. Finally she decided to drag her trouble into the light. "Duncan…?" Kaslyn frowned, uncertain of how to frame what she wanted to know, then finally asked, "Is there something … _wrong_ with me that I'm … relieved to be away from my clan? I mean, I'm sad, don't get me wrong," she hastily added, "but …it's just …." She winced not knowing how to go on, and bit her lip. Looking back up at him, she squirmed uncomfortably.

One dark eyebrow twitched curiously before he nodded slowly and answered. "I think I understand. There's nothing wrong with how you're feeling, Kaslyn. You miss your friend and your clan, but now you won't be reminded of your loss and looking for him, and they won't be looking at you with sympathy at seeing the empty place by your side. Instead of a hole being torn in your old life, your whole life has turned into something new."

"How did you know?" Kaslyn asked softly, eyes widened.

He shrugged and a small smile tugged at his mouth, "Experience." Duncan was well pleased. The more time he spent with this girl the more convinced he became that she was exactly what he had been hoping to find. Although persuading the Dalish to part from her clan had been extremely challenging, she had made the painful decision on her own, and now she was beginning to show interest in the world around her. The fact that she obviously recognized her youth and inexperience, and had shown herself willing to ask for answers from others not of her clan or race, demonstrated a wisdom beyond her years and a certain openness uncommon amongst the Dalish.

Kaslyn thanked him for his insight. After a few more minutes, she volunteered to keep watch. Duncan eyed her momentarily then put away the map and rolled into his blankets. After he was apparently settled, she brought out one of the journals her clan-father had given her and recorded the tumultuous adventure that had brought her to where she was. Although she was emotionally exhausted from recent events, her task kept her interested and wakeful long into the night. So did the Warden's mumblings as he slept. She was putting away her book when Duncan suddenly bolted awake. From her seat, she quickly searched the area but eyes, ears, and nose told her nothing was amiss. She turned her gaze back to him.

The Grey Warden checked the position of the moon and rumbled, "You should have awakened me sooner. You need your rest."

Kaslyn arched one eyebrow but made no answer. Suddenly she asked, "Who's 'Fiona'?" His black eyes darted over the low fire at her but she met his sharp gaze calmly. "You spoke that name in your sleep," she explained.

He untangled himself from his blankets and turned to face her. He sighed and finally replied, "Fiona is my friend and a Grey Warden." He hesitated, considering Kaslyn for a bit, and then added, "In some ways, you remind me of her."

Kaslyn pondered that before inquiring, "She is elvhen?"

Duncan nodded then said, "She is not Dalish, however. She's a mage from Orlais." He touched the earring he wore and added, "This was a gift from her."

The hunter blinked and wondered how she could possibly remind him of someone like that. She prompted, "You mentioned something about her baby…?"

Duncan took a deep breath heavy with reluctance. "She … gave him up to concentrate on her duties as a Grey Warden," he finally responded. He started finger-combing his midnight hair back into the neat tail he wore and said, "Now you should sleep. We have a long way to go yet."

Kaslyn shook her head. She noted his frown and considered her answer carefully. Duncan had already witnessed the service, she supposed, it would not hurt anything to reveal a bit more of Dalish tradition. "After Tamlen's funeral … Ashalle will make his favorite foods and everyone in the clan will gather at the central fire. The rest of the night is spent telling stories about him. So we can remember him and … say goodbye… as the Creators guide him to the Beyond," she explained quietly. "I … can't be there with them but I can keep the vigil tonight - for Tamlen." The firelight blurred for a moment and she looked into her lap and sniffled. Tamlen had been a significant part of her life and she dearly missed him. She realized she had always felt safe whenever he was around and she didn't think she would ever have that again, especially now that she wasn't even home anymore. After a while, she heard the Warden speak.

"Tell me about your friend," Duncan gently asked.

Her eyes snapped up to his and she asked, "Why would you want to hear about someone you never met?"

The Warden shrugged and replied, "I could order you to lie down but I cannot force you to sleep." He paused for a moment and added, "Keeper Marethari spoke a bit about you two. Were you and Tamlen close?"

Kaslyn hesitantly nodded and her gaze drifted back to the fire. A sad-sweet smile touched her mouth as a thought occurred and she admitted, "Considering the … volume of mischief and the number of adventures Tamlen and I shared together …, it's quite likely that my clan might also mention my name tonight - at least once or twice." She abruptly sobered, feeling a pang of selfish remorse; the evening was for her best friend – not for her. Tamlen was the one who was gone … but then, so was she as far as their clan was concerned, she reflected. They might not have sung songs or planted a tree for her but she was no longer with them either. She hoped she was at least remembered as well as her friend even if she was not dead yet. With Duncan's quiet encouragement, she spent the rest of the night sharing some of her tales about Tamlen. In the morning, they broke camp and continued their journey.

By midmorning they reached a small village. While Kaslyn indifferently endured the villagers' nervous glances and whisperings about the wilder elf amongst them, Duncan caught up with a mounted man and paid him to deliver a letter. Afterwards, they went to a nearby smithy where he bargained with the blacksmith for the use of one of the horses he kept. Horses were rare in Ferelden since the Orlesian occupation, and were mostly reserved for nobles and messengers. Fortunately, this blacksmith regularly stabled a few for couriers. While breaking their fast that morning, Duncan had considered his options. He debated continuing their journey on foot but decided against taxing Kaslyn's health any more than necessary. Noting her absently rubbing her shoulder at one point, he had inquired how she felt. She assured him she was fine, dismissing the ache as merely the results of the previous day's activities; she had never fought darkspawn before and they were tough opponents. Duncan had let the incident go but was aware of the taint slowly creeping through her system. A bay mare was quickly tacked up and a bag of feed was tied to a saddle ring before the Warden led her back outside to where his Dalish companion waited. He let the two of them become acquainted then swung easily up into the saddle and reached back down to offer the elf a hand. She looked at both horse and rider with some skepticism then asked, "Is it like riding a halla?"

He grinned and replied, "Having never ridden a halla, I couldn't say, but if you've done that then I suspect this will be very similar." As he watched, her apprehensive frown became an expression of interest. They took hold of each other's arm, and with a light jump on her part, he easily pulled her up behind him. The smallest hunter of her clan, her weight added almost nothing to the horse's burden. In moments she was settled, choosing to grip the edge of the saddle to steady herself, and he kicked the horse into motion.

Kaslyn did not remember closing her eyes. She knew the afternoon sun was warm and, all things considered, the Warden had a fairly nice scent that included a combination of his long leather coat, his silk shirt, and his silverite weapons. Eventually she found herself following a weird, twisting trail, searching for something. Drawn through the shade of what looked like overhanging stone, she suddenly came across a crouching Tamlen. He was pale and shivering and shadows seemed to cling to his skin in places. She reached for him – to help, to reassure, to do something – but when he looked back at her with his haunted eyes, a fissure suddenly split the land between them. The ground under her started to shudder unexpectedly and between that and his tormented expression she stumbled to her knees. She made a grab for him to pull him to her side, calling his name, but he shook her off and told her, "You must leave me, lethallan. You must go on – for both of us now."

"No! Tamlen!" A thick, churning fog started to roll up around them and the ground began shaking harder. Suddenly the distance between them widened into a yawning chasm as the land tore itself and them apart. "TAMLEN!" She yelled his name again, reaching for him, but he left his hands around his knees and watched as the ground underneath her unexpectedly shattered and she fell. Kaslyn's eyes snapped open, and a soft gasp left her.

She was actually in mid-air …!

Abruptly hitting the ground, she rolled with the momentum until she could stop, and then sat up in the grass. Duncan immediately pulled the horse to a halt and jumped off. Keeping the reins firmly clenched in one hand, he hurried to her side. The pain flaring in her left shoulder matched that in her heart but she maintained she was all right despite fresh bruises and scratches. Fortunately none of her gear had been damaged. She was deeply chagrined that she had dozed off behind his saddle and fallen. She was certainly proving her merit as a potential Grey Warden, she thought acerbically. Duncan insisted on examining her injuries, but had to agree she was relatively unhurt. To her complete humiliation, he directed her to ride in front of him for the rest of the day. She tried to point out she was unlikely to fall asleep again but he brooked no argument and she reluctantly obeyed.

That night at camp after they had taken care of dinner, he firmly pressed on her a concoction of willowbark and elfroot for her aches. After she accepted the cup, he brought out his chart and studied it. Gagging slightly after the first tentative swallow, she tossed back the rest of the foul-tasting cocktail. She watched him curiously for a bit then asked him, "So where are we going?"

Delighted at her increasing interest, he invited her to sit nearby and showed her the map of Ferelden he had been examining. He pointed, "This is where we are now." With his finger, he traced the route he was taking and explained, "We will be travelling south through the Hinterlands to the ruin of Ostagar on the edges of the Korcari Wilds." He tapped the appropriate spot towards the bottom of the map.

Looking over the illustration, she gestured and asked, "Wouldn't it have been simpler to just cut across the wilderness here instead of following the road?"

He smiled and said, "It may look easier on the map but that area is made up of steep hills and dense forests, making for slower progress and ultimately more ground to cover."

Kaslyn silently acknowledged her understanding. Despite an unfamiliar accent, Duncan's deep voice was almost as much of a pleasure to listen to as Hahren Paivel. Her eyes roamed the map and she suddenly found herself wondering where her clan was by now. Her breath caught at the wave of homesickness that suddenly engulfed her. She returned to her previous spot on the opposite side of the campfire, drawing her knees up and resting her chin on her crossed arms as she gazed into the flames. Duncan watched her briefly before putting away the map and trying to get some sleep before his turn on watch. Sometime after the Warden fell asleep, she hesitated then slowly drew Tamlen's longbow from the clip on her weapon harness. Eyes and fingers tenderly tracing the designs and shape of the bow, she let memories of all the time they had spent together wash through her mind, culminating with the dream she had that day. With a deep sigh, she carefully unstrung the bow, and set the eased elmwood aside. In its place on her harness, she clipped the ash wood longbow Master Ilen had given her. She deliberated long and hard about it before removing her bearclaw necklace as well and tucking the keepsake in her pouch. Wherever she was going, no one would know the significance and she would prefer to be underestimated if she ran into trouble. Taking out her father's heirloom necklace, she wound the long strands around her neck close enough so as not to snare on anything before pulling one loop through another to secure it. In the morning, Tamlen's bow became the spool to wrap her bedding as she and Duncan packed up their camp. If he noticed the changes, he said nothing about them. After her tumble the previous day, however, they did have to reach one compromise, and while she was again allowed to ride behind Duncan, she was required to hang onto his baldric or one of the belts circling his waist.

Now on horseback, their journey to Ostagar took only three more days. For the most part it was a quiet, companionable trip. Kaslyn asked occasional questions and Duncan offered a few other topics but neither rider was extremely talkative. Early in the afternoon on the fourth day since leaving the Dalish clan, unfamiliar noises and a strong odor alerted Kaslyn to an impending discovery. Soon they rode into the midst of several picket lines of horses and were met by a few human and elven handlers. Dismounting quickly, the Grey Warden turned and courteously caught the Dalish as she dropped over the side of the mare. Leaving the horse in the care of the grooms, Duncan strode towards a curving road periodically spanned by tall arches which led into an extensive ruin. Kaslyn paused to take in the sight. She had never seen any place so huge and, she absently observed, none of the stonework appeared reminiscent of elven history. Noticing that Duncan was starting to leave her behind, she hurried to catch up to him, enjoying the opportunity to stretch her legs after so long behind a saddle.

The Warden had noted the Dalish's preoccupation and temporarily slowed until she caught up to him. As they walked down a long arcade, bordered on the right side by a massive wall and open to the wilderness below the cliff on the other, he explained, "The Tevinter Imperium built Ostagar long ago to prevent the wilders from invading the northern lowlands. It's fitting we make our stand here even if we face a different foe within that forest. The king's forces have clashed with the darkspawn several times, but here is where the bulk of the horde will show itself. There are only a few Grey Wardens within Ferelden at the moment but all of us are here. This Blight must be stopped here and now. If it spreads to the north, Ferelden will fall."

Kaslyn listened even as she continued to look around curiously. They crossed beneath a tall arch into a stone entryway and her inquisitive gaze was attracted by the opening of a pair of large, wooden gates built across a second, crumbling archway immediately ahead of them. Just as she and Duncan approached, they were met by three humans in gleaming plate armor. Two men were identically dressed in polished silverite with heavy, full helmets obscuring their faces, and were clearly armed with swords and shields. They came to a stop a short distance behind the third man. Two, slim braids held back shoulder-length, blond hair from a mostly clean-shaven, strong-featured face and bright blue eyes. From the top of his head to the toes of the shining, intricately-etched, golden armor that he wore, the proud man in the center gleamed in the sunlight while the tall handle of an enormous, two-handed sword rose over the top of his right shoulder. His elated smile was every bit as bright as the sun glinting off of his burnished armor.

"Ho there, Duncan!" The young man easily swung a hand out towards the Grey Warden.

"King Cailan!" Duncan responded in surprise, and they briefly grasped each other's forearm. "I didn't expect a -!"

"A royal welcome?" The king gripped the older man's shoulder and his smile widened, "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"

"Not if I could help it, your Majesty," Duncan replied in a patient voice.

So this was the human king, Kaslyn thought, eyeing him with some interest. Even the roaming Dalish knew that King Cailan was the first Ferelden king born into a land free from foreign rule in two generations, and had presided over the country with his queen since his father's death five years ago. Never in a hundred years would she have imagined that she would actually see Ferelden's ruler; not from a distance and certainly not close enough to be next to someone within arm's reach of him. He seemed pleasant enough and smelled of silverite, armor grease, and something vaguely floral, but she maintained her reserve. He might be friendly with Duncan because he was a fellow human and a Grey Warden. It remained to be seen what the monarch would make of her – if he even deigned to notice.

"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all!" The king announced as he stepped to the side of the path, turning to face the others, and gestured for Duncan to join him. "Glorious!"

The Grey Warden aligned himself with the monarch, giving the apprehensive Dalish a reassuring glance. Duncan was suddenly acutely aware that before travelling with him, this young woman had never spent any time around humans and now she was about to enter a whole camp full of the king's own. He could sense her wariness, like that of any wild creature suddenly exposed to an unfamiliar situation. Fortunately, her uneasiness was not currently enough to disturb the royal bodyguards.

King Cailan beamed before his expression became somewhat more inquisitive. Turning to the older man, he remarked, "The other Wardens told me you'd found a promising new recruit. I take it this is she?"

Duncan felt Kaslyn's tension tighten a few more notches as attention started to turn to her. Hoping to avert any awkwardness, he answered, "Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty…."

King Cailan waved him off, "There's no need to be so formal, Duncan." He stepped before the young elf, adding in the Warden's direction, "We'll be shedding blood together after all." He turned his blue eyes to the new recruit and greeted her cordially. "Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?"

Kaslyn was a little startled at the salutation and hesitated, glancing at Duncan for a moment. She raised her head, meeting the king's gaze, and replied in a similarly amiable tone, "I am Kaslyn of clan Mahariel, your Majesty."

"Pleased to meet you, Kaslyn," the king smiled warmly while his eyebrows arched imperceptibly at her courteous response. "The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers and I, for one, am glad to help them." His eyes quickly took in the rest of her appearance and he politely inquired, "You are Dalish, are you not? I hear your people possess remarkable skill and honor."

Kaslyn's eyebrows twitched with some surprise. She had thought humans considered her people to be dangerous vagrants. The king was being unexpectedly affable, though, and mindful that she was representing her clan – and all elvhen - she smoothly replied, "Thank you, your Majesty. You are too kind."

"Well, I admire you for being so civil to a race that's treated yours so terribly," the monarch assured her, appearing impressed with her easy answer. He briefly reached out to gently brush her arm as he reassured her, "I tell you this: you are very welcome here. The Grey Wardens will benefit greatly with you amongst them." He paused then apologized, "I'm sorry to cut this short but I should return to my tent." He shook his head, and included her in a charmingly conspiratorial grin, as he said, "Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies." His eyes twinkled happily when she responded with her own shy smile.

Duncan, fairly certain no one else had noticed Kaslyn's tiny flinch at the king's touch, was pleased and relieved the introduction had gone so well. He drew the royal attention again as he informed him, "Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week."

"Ha!" King Cailan grinned and took a few steps away before facing them again. "Eamon just wants in on the glory! We've won three battles against these monsters and the next should be no different."

"You sound very confident of that," Kaslyn quietly ventured to point out.

Eyes shining with amusement, the king turned to look at her and with a gesture in her direction, replied, "_Overconfident_, some would say. Right, Duncan?" He chuckled at the older man's serious expression.

Duncan glanced down before looking back at the monarch. He squared his shoulders briefly and carefully warned, "Your Majesty, I'm not certain the Blight can be ended quite as … quickly as you might wish."

"I'm not even sure this is a true Blight," King Cailan took another few steps away. Pausing with his back to them, he reflected, "There are plenty of darkspawn on the field but, alas, we've seen no sign of an Archdemon."

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan inquired blandly.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the tales! Y'know, a King riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god…!" He turned back to face them, glumly adding, "But I suppose this will have to do." Straightening his shoulders, he remarked with some resignation, "Now I must go before Loghain sends out a search party." He divided a glance between Duncan and Kaslyn, "Farewell, Grey Wardens!" With that, he turned and strode back into the camp with his guards following.

Duncan inclined his head while Kaslyn thought it appropriate to repeat the Warden's formal salute by crossing her arms and bowing slightly from the waist at the departing monarch. She had been startled by the king's generous reception and his reassurance that she was welcome in his camp, but his casual dismissal of the darkspawn facing his army and, worse, his apparent fascination with legendary triumphs had caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. Stories were all well and good but usually at least a bowshot away from the truth. Kaslyn knew that from experience. Her return with her pelt had been a popular tale in her clan for some time and had made for a great story – especially when Hahren Paivel told it on warm, summer nights. However, the truth had been a bloody, desperate struggle of survival and few had forgotten the serious injuries she had also brought back with her.

As if sensing her disquiet, Duncan approached her and spoke, "What the king said is true. They've won several battles against the darkspawn here."

Kaslyn arched an eyebrow at him, noting he did not sound very reassured. The Grey Warden believed strongly enough to convince her Keeper it was a Blight and the hunter was inclined to believe them. She knew Duncan was aware of her own recent experiences so she felt he would understand and not think her out of line when she pointed out, "He didn't seem to take the darkspawn very seriously."

"Mm, true," Duncan replied. He gestured for her to walk with him and went on, "Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now they look to outnumber us." They passed through the entryway and the guard stationed there secured the wooden gates behind them before resuming his post. Following the path, Duncan continued, "I know there is an Archdemon behind this but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling." He eventually stopped and turned to face her.

"Why not?" Kaslyn inquired. "He seems to regard the Grey Wardens highly."

Duncan made a cautionary gesture with one hand, "Yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais. He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable." A smile tugged at his mouth when he saw her wince.

"What would you have him do, Duncan?" Kaslyn asked.

"Wait for reinforcements," he replied readily. "We sent a call out west to the Grey Wardens of Orlais and hope they will reach us before the Archdemon does but it will be many days before they can join us." He went on to explain, "Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference." He raised his head and added, "To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay."

Kaslyn sighed and admitted, "A hot meal might be nice first."

Duncan chuckled, "I agree! We have until tomorrow nightfall to begin the ritual." Her expression clearly asked to know more and he went on, "Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call 'the Joining' in order to become a Grey Warden." His eyes narrowed on her momentarily as he told her, "The Joining is what will cure you of the suffering your tainted blood surely brings you, Kaslyn. If it had been possible, I would have done it before now."

She had to admit to herself by this point that she was not completely well. Random, unexpected aches in her joints or head occasionally occurred and she suspected she might be slightly feverish. She did not feel cold but once in a while she found herself shivering. Her appetite had become somewhat erratic as well; sometimes ravenous, sometimes absent, rarely normal anymore. The symptoms had been coming on gradually since a day or two after they had left her clan, but she had not mentioned anything to Duncan about them. There was nothing he could do anyway but apparently he had not missed them – or the occasional disturbing dreams. She reluctantly nodded in admission of his observation then wondered why it had not been 'possible' to help her earlier and asked, "Why didn't you tell me about this cure before?"

"It is a secret and it is not a simple antidote. The Joining is what will make you a Grey Warden," he answered.

Kaslyn followed up with the obvious, "Why is this ritual so secret?"

Duncan eyed her firmly and replied, "The Joining is dangerous. I cannot speak more of it except to say that you will learn all in good time. Until then, you must trust that what is done is necessary."

A small, wry smile briefly touched Kaslyn's mouth. He sounded just like Keeper Marethari - and she wondered if the Keeper had slipped to him how much she hated vague answers. Still, it was clear he was not going to tell her any more about this ritual. "Am I the only recruit you have?"

"No, there are two other recruits here already. They have been waiting for us to arrive," he answered, relieved they had gotten past her persistent questions about the Joining. The Keeper's warning about the hunter's relentless curiosity had not been unwarranted, Duncan reflected.

Kaslyn supposed there was some relief to be found in the news she was not going to be forced to wait while he went out looking for more people. At a momentary loss, she looked at him, "What do you need me to do?"

A faint smile touched Duncan's features as he invited, "Feel free to explore the camp here as you wish." He turned and they started walking again. "All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being. There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you're ready, seek him out and tell him it's time to summon the other recruits." They stopped at the end of a bridge and turned to face each other again, Duncan gestured across the span, adding, "Until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent on the other side of this bridge, should you need to."

Not knowing what else to say or do, Kaslyn bowed her head deeply to the man who had saved her life once already. Duncan smiled at her reassuringly then left her alone, striding off down the ramp and across the bridge towards the human encampment on the other side. Watching Duncan's retreating figure, she wondered who or what he thought he was protecting her from by asking her to remain in 'the camp here'. Eventually she realized the Warden had left her on the outskirts of the camp and, appreciating that he was probably giving her the opportunity to enter when she felt ready, she sighed and looked around. Although much of the ruin was still clearly worked stone, the forest was slowly taking back its own. Many areas were overgrown with grass and bushes, and several full-grown pines had pushed their way through the stone cobbles. Some trees had been cut to construct various wooden scaffoldings which Kaslyn guessed were used for keeping watch on the wilderness below the fortress – or to hang the king's creme-and-gold flags from some of the high arches.

Kaslyn was unfamiliar with Ostagar but had heard of the Korcari Wilds. Her clan had never travelled quite far enough south to ever visit the wilderness but she recalled they had done some trading with a few Chasind wilder folk. These human tribes had made the Wilds their home since mankind first came to these lands and could be very similar to the Dalish. According to the Chasind, there were as many tales about the great southern forest as there were shadows. She remembered one tale the Hahren had learned about werewolves inhabiting the Wilds until a powerful human arl had declared war on the creatures and hunted them relentlessly for the next twenty years or so. Unfortunately he had made no distinctions between the werewolves he hunted and the Chasind folk who also called the forest home, fearing the humans harbored wolf demons inside them. When a Chasind woman found all her sons slain, she killed herself with a blade pulled from one son's heart, and placed her death curse on those responsible. From her wound sprang the perpetual mist that reputedly pervaded the area and the arl's army was lost forever, unable to find their way home. As for the Wilds, the wilderness spread as far into the south as anyone had ventured. Beyond the misty forests was said to be vast tracts of snow, white-capped mountains, and entire fields of ice. It was a land seemingly far too cold for mankind to survive, yet some Chasind eked out an existence even there, and told of horrors beyond the Wilds that the lowland folk could not begin to comprehend. To most, Ferelden simply ended with the Korcari Wilds, a land of great trees, wet marshes, and dangerous monsters. Which made it a perfect place for an Archdemon to appear, Kaslyn thought. She was not altogether certain what an Archdemon was, having only lately encountered darkspawn, but if an Archdemon was 'behind a Blight' as Duncan believed, then it could not be good.

Speaking of good, Kaslyn mulled over her meeting with the King of Ferelden. He certainly seemed like a kind man. He had been unexpectedly gracious to her and she might even go so far as to say friendly which had been quite a surprise. She considered the other man mentioned, Teyrn Loghain, and vaguely recalled learning that he had been a key figure alongside King Cailan's father in the eviction of the Orlesian Empire from Ferelden, but otherwise she had no idea who he was. She figured he must be rather important if he was still advising the king on battle strategies.

Catching a familiar scent, she followed her nose to an elfroot plant growing nearby. It was somewhat reassuring to find something she could recognize in this strange place. She harvested a few leaves and roots, otherwise leaving the plant intact, and after putting those away, she decided to investigate the surrounding area. Duncan had told her she could explore, so she would. Curious about the sprawling ruins she had previously only glimpsed, she trotted northeast to a ramp leading up to another gate where a guard stood at the entrance into the grounds of an enormous tower. She had to tilt her head all the way back to see the top of the spire where a flock of birds swirled around the pinnacle. Grabbing her nerve, she walked up to the guard. The narrow visor was up on his open-faced, pointed helmet, and he wore grey iron chainmail reinforced with brown leather, and a crossbow and quiver slung on his back. He turned out to be surprisingly nice.

"The Tower of Ishal is off-limits. The men stationed inside are securing it now," he readily informed her.

"What's the Tower of Ishal?" Kaslyn asked curiously, noting that his accent was fairly casual compared to the king's more refined speech.

The guard answered, "I think they used it once to watch for wilders coming out of the forest."

"This is a pretty large ruin," she commented, peering through the wooden beams of the gate.

"Goes back to the time of the Tevinter Imperium. Dwarven make. That's probably why it's still standing," he replied easily.

Kaslyn glanced at him inquisitively and asked, "Why is the tower off-limits, exactly?"

"By orders of Teyrn Loghain. The tower is being secured by his men to be used during battle," he explained. "I'm told they discovered some lower chambers, and they don't know how far down they go. So, for now, everyone's to stay out."

"Lower chambers?" She inquired. She looked back between the posts at the visible area surrounding the tower and wondered how far below ground the roots of this massive stone tower stretched.

The guard shrugged, "I didn't see anything like that when I was there, but who knows?"

Kaslyn nodded thoughtfully, and then smiled shyly, "I should go."

He nodded once, "Maker speed your steps."

Kaslyn was a little startled at the remark. Oh, that's right, she recalled as she left, she was in the land of the Chantry of Andraste and their Maker now. Wondering what sorts of stories, or chants, about the darkspawn the humans' Chantry told, she continued her ramble further east and stopped to speak briefly to the guard who had opened the front gate she and Duncan had so recently come through. Like the barred entrance to the Tower of Ishal, this barrier was constructed of thick, sharpened, wooden stakes and was locked in place by another beam that fastened across both halves. On either side of the gate, the stone walls were perforated with tall, arched 'windows'. The lowest ledges of these slim apertures were nearly an arm-length over her head, but Kaslyn surreptitiously noted that in some places the dirt and deteriorated stone rubble slumped nearly to the bottom of these openings. It would not take much to slip up, over, and out, if she were of a mind. She and the gate guard were joined by another heavily-armored soldier who patrolled the area. Like the gate guard, the newcomer wore splintmail, but unlike the guard's triangular-style, visored helmet over his visible face, the soldier was rendered anonymous by the masking face guards of a heavy, full helmet topped with a low, plain crest, similar to those worn by the king's bodyguards. Both men seemed oddly relieved and impressed when they found out she was Duncan's recruit. Kaslyn brought up the last three battles the king had mentioned and the gate guard revealed, "Today, two units of men arrived every hour and they expect to double that tomorrow, still, the teyrn worries that might not be enough."

Knowing what she did of darkspawn, but nothing of the encounters these men had faced, Kaslyn had no more to say and excused herself. Recalling what had been said about the fortress being used to watch for wilders, she wandered towards the southern side of the ruin. Several feet from and parallel to the path that led due west to the bridge, a broad, broken stone walkway sprawled in the weeds. A ramp led south from this overlook down into a swath of overgrown stone, dirt, and more weeds beyond which was a boundary of dilapidated arches. Past these crumbling columns stretched a narrow, battered terrace with what looked like the remains of two, small courtyards on the eastern and western ends. The outermost walls had fallen from the edges of these circular plazas, allowing clear views out into the Wilds. Where the walls had tumbled away, or never were, the platforms were bordered by a squared, knee-high rim of stone covered in tarnished metal that had turned a mossy shade with verdigris in some places. Guards, armored in full helmets and splintmail, and armed with shields and various weapons, were stationed along points here as well, and when the hunter hesitantly greeted one, he replied with a courteous, "Maker watch over you, my lady."

Kaslyn was uncertain what to make of that. She knew little of human religion but was also fairly befuddled by the comment of 'my lady'. She supposed that formally she was Hunter Kaslyn of clan Mahariel of the Dalish but had no idea how that would translate here. Nodding a respectful response and hoping that would suffice, Kaslyn turned her attention to the broad valley below and found herself in a bit of awe at the sight. She was not sure she had ever seen that much sky all at once in her life and the mountain peaks visible in the far distance were breathtaking. Snowy mountainsides shaded into thick forests carpeting the lower portion of the valley, where the domes of a few scattered outbuildings glittered in the sunlight along with myriad pools of water. She briefly entertained the notion of quickly sketching the scene but decided to wait and look around some more. She only had so much paper and ink, after all. Turning to eye the top of the tower, she speculated about the view and wondered about the odds of getting up there to have a look. She continued to wander, stopping frequently to admire the southern outlook as well as to occasionally pause to collect various things she came across that had apparently been lost or forgotten. Finally out of places to investigate, she had no more excuses but to head west across the bridge and into the main camp.

Stopping at the eastern end of the bridge, she stalled a little longer by sketching the view of the opposite side in her journal. At last she took a deep breath and started across the span. She took her time about crossing the corridor, frequently pausing to peer over the short walls on either side. The center of the structure broadened into a circular, observational platform, bracketed by four statues. On the northern side stood a fifth pedestal with a large figure of a man holding a spear. Fereldans certainly liked their statues, she mused, or maybe they were leftovers from the time of the Tevinter Imperium. If there had been a matching figure on the southern side, it was gone. That edge of the plaza opened into thin air, where the archer's parapet and part of the ledge had clearly been broken off somehow. At either side of the damage, lamp posts with metal bowls for oil affixed to the top of each one had been stationed. Kaslyn thought that would only serve to illuminate whoever was on guard up here and destroy any chance of seeing anything approach from the night-dark Wilds but realized it would be easy to misjudge the broken lip of the bridge at night, too. Or the second, smaller gouge in the structure she noted further on. Walking right up to the crumbling, southern edge and bracing somewhat against the prevalent wind that blew through the canyon, she looked far below to see a pike-fence, wooden ramparts, and other fortifications had been erected where the natural gorge formed. Dozens of open yards away from the ruin, the tree line distinctly began. Archers would have splendid targeting views from up here, she reckoned. Approaching the opposite side, next to the giant statue and another courteous guard, she saw the forested ravine narrow slightly before winding further north, presumably opening into the lowlands beyond. Once across the bridge, she stopped at the foot of the ramp that led up into the western half of the camp and took a few moments to survey the eastern half much as she had this side; her eyes once again attracted to the tall tower soaring above the rest of the ruin. Turning back, she proceeded up the ramp where she was unexpectedly greeted by the guard standing watch at the entrance through the wall bordering this side. He had bright green eyes under the open visor of his helmet and wore grey iron chainmail. A sword and shield were slung at his back.

"Hail! You must be the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan brought!" When she smiled and allowed that she was, he grinned and went on pleasantly, "This place hasn't seen such bustle in centuries, I'll wager. Need a hand getting anywhere?"

"Tell me about Ostagar," Kaslyn invited.

"Used to be a fortress, long time ago, so I understand. Back in the days when the wilders used to invade the lowlands," he explained. "You were just on the eastern side of the ruin. The Tower of Ishal is there, but Teyrn Loghain's closed it off until the battle." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder into the camp behind him and added, "This side is the king's camp. We've got the Grey Wardens here, the Circle of Magi, the Chantry … You can't swing a dead cat without hitting somebody important."

Kaslyn smirked at his description and asked, "Is there anywhere to trade for supplies?"

"Quartermaster, he's just a bit to the northwest," he answered.

Kaslyn supposed he must be similar to Master Ilen. She went on to talk with him about the rest of the important people and places in the encampment as well and he was quite informative. "The king's probably in his tent. He and Teyrn Loghain are on the south side of the camp," The guard went on conversationally, "The king likes to spend time with his soldiers, though, sometimes even without his bodyguards. Drives Teyrn Loghain wild, that does."

"You said the Circle of Magi is here?" Kaslyn prompted.

He nodded, "A few mages, yes. They even brought those creepy, quiet fellows, the Tranquil. Gives me the shivers when they talk, all cold and even," He shuddered even talking about them. "They're to the north of here, bunched up with a herd of Templars glaring at them. Can't miss it."

Kaslyn cocked her head at an unexpected noise and asked, "Do I hear dogs barking?"

The guard chuckled, "This is Ferelden, isn't it?" His expression remained friendly as he continued, "The king has his kennels on the west side of camp. Stinks from all the hounds." His face took on an unhappy frown, "These aren't cute puppies, though – some of those dogs bite the darkspawn and get too much of that blood in them… it's like poison. Slow, painful death. Terrible," he added.

Kaslyn could somewhat relate – although she had not bitten any darkspawn her humor reminded her. Well, if she had doubted Duncan's word, there was an independent confirmation that she could be in some trouble, she mused. She let none of her sobering thoughts show, however, and asked instead, "Where's Warden Duncan's tent?" If she needed to contact the Grey Warden, best to have some idea of where she should report, she figured.

He smiled and pointed further into the camp with his arm, "Not far. It's straight ahead, just past the royal encampment." He paused, and then remarked, "Most of your fellows are in the valley with the army, but the recruits seem to be staying up here for now."

So, she was not the only one restricted, she noted. She wondered again why they had been asked to stay in this particular location but remembered Duncan's request about trust and time. She thanked the guard for his kind information and excused herself. "I'll be on my way."

"Good luck to you then," he bid her with an encouraging smile.

She summoned her courage and cautiously entered the main camp. Just past the guard the opening was blocked by some sort of secondary wall, flanked by two more statues, forcing her to choose to enter on the left or the right. Kaslyn had no idea what the difference might be and chose to turn right.

The main camp was loud, it was noisy, and it _stunk_. Too many scents too strong to be called anything but _smells_ assaulted her, and she sneezed a few times before her nose acclimated. Immediately she realized that the strong wind blowing southward through the gorge kept the worst of the noise and stink confined to this area. Blinking her eyesight back into focus, she looked around and her eyes widened. She had _never_ seen so many humans in one place in her whole life. Men and women, all dressed in that standard, grey iron chainmail or splintmail, were everywhere. A few wore plate armor. Only a small handful appeared to be wearing leather armor of any sort. Crumbling stone buildings and tall, evergreen trees vied with a few wooden watchtowers that had been erected along the boundaries of the ruins here. Stationed atop the towers were more soldiers, armed with crossbows, keeping watch throughout the camp overall. Organized in groups between the worn stone walls were many brightly colored tents. She wondered briefly why they had not used the ruined buildings for shelter but then figured no one wanted to risk having a loose brick drop on their heads anytime soon.

She found she had come out on the north side of the camp, some yards from a cluster of bright purple tents, and caught a glimpse of a flimsy wooden sign that said, 'Magi Encampment'. Directly ahead, in a small courtyard encircled by eroded walls and a few of these large, vivid tents, three men dressed in robes were waving their arms dramatically while eldritch lights eddied about them. Kaslyn had seen both Keeper Marethari and Merrill perform magic but it had not looked like this. The expression of concentration on each face was similar but the ritualistic movements were different. She drifted forward curiously to get a closer look but was asked to stop by one of a pair of heavily-armored men stationed at the big pillars marking the entry through the stone walls enclosing the courtyard. Heavy, white helmets, punctuated only with a narrow eye slit and some breathing holes, completely obscured their faces and matched their enameled plate armor on the breastplates of which the image of a flaming sword was prominent. Long, violet velvet sashes wrapped their waists above short armor plating that protected their hips and draped over long, purple leather robes which were also embroidered with gold down the front and hemmed with a rising golden sun at the bottom edge. Underneath these full-length battle-skirts, silvery, armored boots peeked. The figure on the right held up one gauntleted hand and the muffled voice of a man came from the concealing helmet, "I'm sorry but the mages must not be interrupted."

Acknowledging his request, she halted. Although these men were apparently warriors, as evidenced by the swords and shields hung at their backs, she wondered about the scent of lyrium that clung to them amidst the expected combination of steel and leather. She watched the mages for a little longer then asked, "What are they doing?"

"The mages must not be interrupted. Their spirits are in the Fade," the armored man on the left responded.

"The Fade?" Kaslyn repeated blankly.

"The Fade is the realm of dreams and the land of the dead. Or so the mages tell us," the soldier explained calmly. "Regardless, they are not to be disturbed. Not even by Grey Wardens."

Kaslyn blinked with some surprise at both the clarification and the reference. Word must travel as remarkably fast here as in her home camp if they already knew she was associated with the Grey Wardens. "As you wish," she told the two anonymous men. With one final glance at the mages' performance, she turned and walked off from them.

Several yards away on her left, a two-tiered, wooden watchtower had been erected against one of the ruin's random walls. From the lower stage, a blond woman was speaking to a group of soldiers gathered below her. A maroon mantle covered the shoulders of her ornate, pink robes which were embroidered with gold sun designs on the chest, upper arms, and hem and announced the woman's Chantry affiliation. Kaslyn could not help but overhear the priestess' words extolling the 'contemplation of death' and 'knowing they had not failed their king but had served their Maker', and she paused momentarily. It was the Chantry that had ordered the March on the Dales and cost the elvhen their second homeland, for which the wandering clans were still named. As far as Kaslyn was aware, it was the Chantry that encouraged the oppression of her race and their treatment as second-class citizens. She briefly rolled her eyes at the words of the nonsensical sermon and kept her gaze averted so as to avoid attention. Much further ahead and separated by a number of feet from the main crowd, she noticed an older woman with her long, white hair tied behind her neck, and dressed in ornate brown robes similar to the mages she had previously seen. Arms crossed in front of her, the woman leaned against an enormous tree near a large urn, and appeared to be listening to the Chantry woman's dubious efforts to comfort or encourage or whatever she was offering. Intent on escaping the area quickly, Kaslyn was about to pass the crowd when a quartet of armored men detached from the group and moved to intercept her.

"Well, well, well, boys, what have we here? Somebody must like to play dress up! Where'd you get them fancy leathers, knife-ears?" A large, scruffy-faced man drawled as he stepped deliberately in front of Kaslyn. "That's a mighty pretty bow, you got there, too! Been stealing, have we?"

The Dalish stopped, peering up at him warily, and calmly replied, "I have not. Please excuse me." She started to go around him, trying to avoid a scene, but the dark-bearded man placed himself squarely in her path. She turned to go the other way and the blond man blocked that route as well. An inconspicuous peek over her shoulder confirmed the fourth man moving behind her to cut off her withdrawal.

"Now, that's not very nice, knife-ears," the malodorous leader growled. "We're just being friendly and looking out for a fellow soldier what obviously got robbed and here you go trying to leave?"

"I don't want any trouble," Kaslyn explained patiently, glancing around at them. That was exactly what they were obviously looking for, however. Their stunning powers of observation had informed them she was an elf plus their insinuations she was a thief were visibly spurious because clearly nobody else there wore Dalish leathers.

"Oh, you won't be any trouble for us," the man replied with a sly grin.

Suddenly Kaslyn was seized from behind by the fourth man who wrapped his arms around and trapped her. Glancing about to make sure they were unnoticed, the men quickly dragged her to a dark alley just behind the platform where the priestess was speaking. Shadows were deep here in the narrow alcove created between a ruined wall, the stage scaffold, and a tall woodpile that had been stacked there obviously waiting to be used for campfires later that night.

Clumped together in the small space, Kaslyn impulsively commented, "Well, now it's apparent where most of the camp stink comes from."

Two of the men frowned darkly as the leader growled a nasty oath, hauled off, and struck her across her left cheek. "Don't get smart with us, whore. We'll teach you to parade about pretending to be something you're not …!"

"Or showing off your thieving ways," the bearded man added. As the leader started to fumble at his belt, the other two moved forward, reaching for her arms and legs on either side of her.

Kaslyn had been told her whole life that human men would want only one thing from her. While her Dalish upbringing had included avoiding conflict whenever possible, she had also been taught how to fight when the situation warranted. Without warning, she exhaled completely, jerking her elbows closer into her sides, and dropped out from under the arms of the human restraining her. Before the startled men could react, she launched her right fist into the nose on her left, reversed her elbow between the leader's eyes in the center, and slammed her left fist into the face on her right. Spinning on the ball of her left foot and with a quick jump, she ran up the torso of the fourth man, driving her right foot into his nose as she pushed off his face to flip backwards and land lightly on her feet right back where she started. All four men toppled to the ground, moaning, and clutching their bloody faces. Kaslyn looked around sharply, making certain she was no longer in imminent danger.

"Hold!" A woman's voice suddenly commanded.

Kaslyn snapped into an attentive stance. She had been obeying a female authority figure all her life and the habit was well-ingrained. With some chagrin she remembered that neither Keeper Marethari nor Ashalle nor Jerinda was anywhere near here. Frowning apprehensively, she looked around to see who she could be in trouble with now.

The older woman that had been listening to the priestess from afar was striding up quickly to where Kaslyn stood amidst the soldiers writhing and groaning in the dirt. Right behind the elder were two more of the king's soldiers and one of the men wearing the flaming sword on his chest. "Just what is going on here?" The woman demanded to know. She glanced at the men on the ground then her angry eyes peered at Kaslyn and she asked, "Are you all right?"

The hunter's eyes widened and she nodded mutely. She bit her lip, tasted something odd, and quietly said, "Umm …, it was just …a case of … mistaken identity…." Kaslyn was less interested in trying to cover for the soldiers than she was attempting to minimize the incident. After all, she had not even drawn a weapon, let alone killed anyone. Still, she did not particularly care to come to anyone's attention here.

The white-haired woman looked at the human wreckage around them as the two men and one woman soldier with her started pulling the injured to their feet and shoving them out of the recess. A wry smile stole across the older woman's face, "Oh, I see…. And just whose identity do you think they mistook you for?"

Despite the distinctive scent of blood added to the aromas surrounding her, the Dalish noted the elder lady smelled of lavender, a hard rain, and very faintly lyrium. Probably a mage, Kaslyn suspected. She could not answer the question and followed them out of the shadows.

After examining each of the wounded men, the woman finally announced, "There's nothing here I'm willing to fix. Gentlemen, I suggest that you get yourselves and your broken noses to the infirmary. Oh," she added, "and in the future you might want to remember to mind your manners around _any lady_ so such unfortunate _accidents_ won't happen again."

The lady warrior smirked appreciatively as the already-bruising eyes of Kaslyn's opponents darted between all three women. The injured men bobbed their heads in painful nods and mumbled assent. Hands still covering their faces, and with the two soldiers escorting them, they staggered away westward. The man in the ornate white armor nodded at the women that remained and returned to the mages' encampment. Turning her blue eyes back to the elf, the older woman frowned and started to reach a hand forward.

Kaslyn shied away. The left side of her mouth throbbed and from the sting, she guessed she had a split lip. She had no idea who or what this woman was, but she held no intentions of being touched by anyone else in this camp. Despite the king's graciousness and the few friendly soldiers she had met, Duncan was the only human she trusted at this point. He was nowhere in sight and Kaslyn wondered if she would be presented to him for punishment since, as best she could figure, her discipline probably fell to him. Still, she had only defended herself. Surely she was allowed that much.

The woman's stern expression gentled and became reassuring as did her voice. "There's nothing to fear, child. I caught sight of those men acting suspiciously and thought you might be in need of some help. I'm only sorry I didn't manage to get here sooner – before one could hit you. I'm willing to heal that for you…," Her kind manner faltered slightly when she added, "Unless you're afraid of mages…?"

Kaslyn shook her head, licking some of the blood from her lip, and quietly replied, "Dalish Keepers know magic." She hesitated then asked, "You… didn't want to heal those men?"

"So they could forget your lesson that much sooner?" The elder woman scoffed gently. "That would defeat the purpose, don't you think?"

Kaslyn started to smile but the movement tugged at damaged flesh and it became a grimace which still aggravated the situation. She gently explored the injury with her tongue before deciding that it was nothing too serious. "It's just a little cut. I doubt it warrants any magic healing but thank you for your offer." She dug out an elfroot leaf and pinched the wound with it to stop the bleeding.

The older woman appeared impressed by her alternative and her thoughtfulness. "Ah, so you have some knowledge of herbs?"

"Not so much," the hunter answered, shaking her head. What she knew about natural ingredients was not really conducive to healing purposes.

The woman smiled and studied her intently for a moment then said, "You are Duncan's newest recruit, are you not? He's not a man easily impressed. You should be proud." She straightened her shoulders and went on, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king."

"I am Kaslyn of clan Mahariel," the Dalish replied, "Pleased to meet you."

"Well met, Kaslyn, and good luck to you on the battlefield. To us all, in fact," Wynne added.

"Will you be fighting beside the king?" Kaslyn inquired politely, managing to talk while pressing the leaf in place.

"Not precisely. The Grey Wardens will be on the front lines, not the mages. Still, we have our parts to play," Wynne replied.

"King Cailan thinks the battle will go well," Kaslyn offered.

"The king must always seem confident. His behavior affects the troops' morale," Wynne remarked. A faintly amused smile touched her features, "He does seem to find his enthusiasm easily, though. Reminds me of a puppy, and I say that with both respect and affection. He is a fine man." Her expression turned serious and she continued, "To defeat the darkspawn we _have_ to work together. It's not an idea everyone seems able to grasp."

"You've faced darkspawn before?" Kaslyn asked.

"Stragglers, yes – not the vast horde the scouts speak of," the mage answered. She eyed the hunter speculatively and inquired, "I wonder … how much do you know of the connection between darkspawn and the Fade?"

"We call it the Beyond…," Kaslyn replied, "but I know of no connection."

Wynne smiled. "Anytime your spirit leaves your earthly body, whether it's to dream or to die, it passes into the realm we call the Fade," the mage explained. "It's home to many spirits, some benevolent, others far less so. At the heart of the Fade lies the Black City."

"Wait," Kaslyn asked with a puzzled frown, "So darkspawn are just dream spirits?" Those had been some tough, hard-hitting nightmares, she thought wryly.

"Sadly, no," Wynne responded. "They are kin to neither the gentle Fade spirits nor the malevolent demons. Shamefully, they were once the souls of men."

Considering her most recent experience, that idea was not a great stretch of the imagination but Kaslyn instead prompted, "The Black City?"

"Some say the Golden City was once the seat of the Maker but when mages from the Tevinter Imperium found a way into the city, it was tainted black with their sin," Wynne responded. "That taint transformed those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts, and the Maker cast them back to the earth where they became the first darkspawn." The mage smiled faintly, "At least, that's what the Chant of Light says."

One corner of Kaslyn's mouth twitched unconsciously and she wanted to point out that the Chantry said many things. She reminded herself that she was in a camp full of humans now and it would be stupid to deliberately give anyone offense, especially involving a sensitive topic like religion. Instead, she quietly inquired, "And is that true?"

Wynne raised her chin, looking at the elf, "It may be allegory, meant to teach us that our own evil causes human suffering – or it may be true," she replied. "It is as good an explanation as any, for now."

Kaslyn was not convinced that was the case but did not care to engage in a debate about philosophy right now. Remembering her encounters with the evil creatures, she offered, "I think I'll just kill every darkspawn I see."

"A wise attitude. It's worked well for me in the past," Wynne acknowledged with a small nod, then her manner turned brisk, "But I'm certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me."

Feeling dismissed, Kaslyn nodded and left. She had no idea if Duncan had anything for her to do. He had not given her any directions other than a request not to leave the camp. She pondered Mage Wynne's words about the darkspawn and 'the Fade'. Kaslyn had never really given the Beyond much thought. It was where her spirit travelled when she dreamed, she knew that much, but she had not really considered the other spirits or demons that dwelled there. She knew these spirits did not have their own imaginations which was why dreams tended to look like strange copies of the world around the dreamer. She recalled Hahren Paivel mentioning something about the Chantry's claims there was some sort of city at the heart of the Beyond, but for the most part the People did not concern themselves with the humans' religion other than for the sake of curiosity. Dalish stories held that the trickster god, Fen'Harel, still roamed the world of dreams, keeping watch over the prisons where he had trapped the other elven gods lest they escape. She wondered if the Dread Wolf had ever rambled into the Chantry's alleged Black City. As for the rest, Kaslyn simply figured that as long as the darkspawn tried to kill her, she would return the favor.

Pausing in the shade of a tree, she checked her herbal compress. Her lip had stopped bleeding and she used the rest of the leaf to wipe away any lingering bloodstains. She then nipped off a small bit of elfroot and swallowed that raw. Hesitantly she tossed the leaf aside. The wound was still a little tender, but no longer painful as it healed, and the leaf had been a pleasantly distracting scent from the odors surrounding her. Standing there attending to her injury, she overheard a wide variety of gossip and rumors, including two passing mages who happened to be speaking about Wynne. Focusing her ears on them, she found that the woman was considered a gifted healer who had spent many years mentoring apprentices within the Circle. Her admiring peers were quite amazed that although she was asked to be First Enchanter Irving's successor, she had refused the honor before volunteering to come to Ostagar. At that point, the two mages' voices were lost in the rest of the ambient clamor.

Kaslyn turned south from there and skirted the crowd of soldiers standing before the Chantry priestess who was now apparently leading some sort of prayer, beseeching the Maker to forgive them for something, to guide 'the valiant King Cailan', to give wisdom to Teyrn Loghain, and generally keep the Fereldan people safe. The Dalish hunter was surprised when several of the lingering soldiers greeted her with a friendly "Hail, Grey Warden", or "How do you do?" She overheard one of the officers tell a soldier, "Ostagar is a very defensible location. Even if the horde outnumbers us, we should see a decisive victory." Some of the humans were down on one knee, bent over with their fingers laced together, obviously praying, and Kaslyn left them strictly alone. Interrupting someone's prayers was impolite and she was fairly certain she did not care to come to their Maker's notice, anyway. She continued on and eventually found herself facing two, colorful tents on either side of a ramp leading up to another south-facing terrace. A tall, double-bannered flagpole was planted near the tent on her left and a wooden sign posted between the flags and the large, white and gold pavilion proclaimed she had reached the 'Royal Enclave'. A guard in heavy, silverite chainmail and armed with a sword and a shield, stood near the entry of the golden tent and Kaslyn decided to talk to him.

"Greetings, King Cailan is not in his tent right now," he said cordially when she approached.

"Do you know where the king is?" Kaslyn asked in a friendly manner.

"I believe he's with the Grey Wardens in camp, drinking," the guard replied pleasantly, "He holds them in high regard, you know, as his father did."

"Tell me about the king," Kaslyn persuaded, "You must see him a lot."

"I suppose I do," he answered, "though he's spending most of his time with the Grey Wardens. He rides with them wherever they go, in fact." He shook his head slightly, "Teyrn Loghain sees the king whenever he can and argues with him over coming battles, but the king just waves him off." The guard shifted his stance a bit and said, "The king wants to end the Blight with a single huge battle the bards will sing of for centuries. Do you think that's possible?"

Kaslyn was surprised he would ask a newcomer something like that but having no idea of the size or nature of the king's army or the numbers of darkspawn in the Wilds, she responded the only way she logically could, "We'll see in the coming battle."

"That's how the teyrn feels. He'll do what the king wants in the end, though," he agreed. "The king thought it was funny the teyrn called him reckless and they fought about the queen."

Although she had not been in camp that long, she had already caught chatter of the king arguing with the teyrn and asked, "Do they fight often?"

"More than usual lately," he admitted. A smirk slanted his mouth to one side as he added, "Good thing the teyrn's the only one who can speak to the king like that."

"They fought about the queen?" Kaslyn prompted.

"She's the teyrn's daughter," he nodded at the elf's intrigued expression. "He wasn't happy about something she did or the king did … I'm not sure. I probably shouldn't discuss it." He grimaced as though he had said too much already.

Kaslyn did not want him to feel that she was trying to encourage speculation, so she smiled her thanks for his comments and excused herself. "I should go."

"As you wish," he nodded and turned his gaze back to watching the area around them. Another soldier walked up just then and hailed them both. Bobbing his head at the elf, the soldier commenced reporting something to the king's guard and Kaslyn readily left them to their discussion. Her curiosity had already been piqued by the large group of soldiers clustered at the upper right side of the ramp.

Topping the slope and mingling amongst the warriors, she stopped when she saw what held their attention. On the ground before them lay a familiar figure. It was a darkspawn just like the greenish-skinned monsters she had fought in the forest. Over this stinking corpse stood a scarlet-haired, goateed soldier wearing reddish splintmail and carrying an enormous hammer strapped to his back. "Look carefully, men," he was explaining to those gathered. "This wretched thing is a darkspawn. They're strong and cunning and smart but don't listen to those old wives' tales. They can be killed. Stick them with your sword enough and they go down. Their blood is black as sin and poisonous. Don't even touch it. You get tainted with that blood and you may as well slit your throat. We've lost many dogs already; had to muzzle them to keep them from biting. It's a long and painful way to die." He knelt down next to the corpse and continued, "There are lots of darkspawn – different kinds," he clarified. "We're getting reports of things we've never even heard of. Our short friend here, for instance, is something called a genlock. They're pretty common in the horde but we've seen others much larger. We don't know where these new darkspawn are coming from or what they can do. All I can say is to use caution. There aren't any we've seen that won't die once they bleed enough."

A few people standing nearby moved to take a closer look at the body, but immediately recoiled when the red-haired soldier abruptly warned, "Don't touch the carcass. We'll be burning it soon so it doesn't infect anything." Heeding his caution and keeping their distance, the other soldiers and knights – all a mix of men and women – started asking questions and commenting amongst themselves. Kaslyn looked again at the corpse. Everything the soldier said was true and yet, seeing the creature lying there gave these people no idea how brutal the darkspawn were in actual combat.

"What do these darkspawn want, Sergeant?'

"I heard that some darkspawn use magic. How? They're animals!"

"Maybe this really is a Blight. Maybe the Grey Wardens are right!"

"They eat our dead. That's how they get stronger…."

"Someone told me he saw one of our men on the battlefield during the last fight but he was all pale and fighting alongside the darkspawn…."

At that point, the one called 'Sergeant' stood up to sternly address the group again. "I want this nonsense talk stopped immediately. What are you, a bunch of nattering fishwives? Spreading gossip until you brown your smallclothes out of terror? We've seen nothing to suggest that the darkspawn drag our people underground to eat them and I want this talk about darkspawn enslaving survivors to stop immediately. Keep your minds focused on the battle. You fight for Ferelden and for your king. Remember that."

Kaslyn frowned a little at his words. Tamlen had disappeared. Duncan had said the darkspawn would have taken his body elsewhere but would not elaborate further on the subject. Now all she could do was devoutly hope that neither rumor was true.

One man standing next to her declared, "I heard there was a great bear darkspawn with fangs as big as your arm!"

Absently Kaslyn shook her head and said, "They're not that big. The ones in its mouth are about as long as your hand but it's the spikes on the rest of its body that can get as long as your forearm."

Her calm response caused several of the soldiers to look at her with wide eyes. Another man standing nearby overheard her and asked, "Have you seen one of them close up?"

She glanced around to see she had the attention of all the gathered soldiers. Even the Sergeant was looking at her with some interest and she replied, "Once. It was in a cave. My … clanmate and I killed it." She tilted her head towards the Sergeant, "He's right. Darkspawn can die. You just have to keep at 'em until _they_ know they're dead."

"Those darkspawn can't be killed," one of the men protested, "I saw one with no head get right back up again."

"I cut the head off of one," Kaslyn immediately responded, "and it stayed dead – so I guess I was pretty convincing."

The rest of the group laughed quietly as the Sergeant nodded at her with a grin, "My thanks, Grey Warden."

She started to tell him she was not a Warden yet but stopped. Instead she acknowledged his words with a smile and a nod. She might not be a Grey Warden but her experience was true and her information was accurate.

Her keen ears picked up the hum of bowstrings and she looked around until she spotted the source. Past this collection of soldiers, Kaslyn caught sight of a handful of archers with longbows taking practice down the long gallery that paralleled the interior side of the outer wall. With one more glance at the monstrous corpse, she left the group and went to gauge what kind of archers were in the king's army. Three target dummies were planted in the ground a fair distance from the bowmen, and were riddled with arrows. Some of the shots had either gone through the straw-stuffed-sack bodies or missed, however, and the wayward shafts were lodged in a distant mound of dirt pushed up by the building that listed back towards the rest of the ruin and cut off the far end of the hall. Watching the archers for a bit, she allowed they were not altogether bad. Even if they had nothing on her people, she thought with pride mixed with a tinge of wistful melancholy. She turned from the practicing bowmen and wandered over to take a look from the south-facing ledge beyond them. Two more soldiers were chatting nearby and she could not help but overhear their idle conversation as she appreciated the view overlooking the other half of the broad, Wilds valley below.

"This is s'posed to be the battle that sends these darkspawn back underground. D'you believe that?" The lady soldier casually asked.

"I don't know what to believe," the man standing near her sighed. "We've won every battle but there's more of them each time."

"Makes you wonder if them Grey Wardens are right," the brunette woman responded.

"I don't want to think about that," the man answered glumly, raking bare hands through his blond hair.

The woman sighed, "Hmm… sounds like the perfect time to get drunk if you ask me." Glancing over, she saw Kaslyn and included her in their conversation by asking, "Good night for it, Warden?"

Not knowing what else to do, Kaslyn shrugged with a sheepish grin.

Neither soldier apparently minded her unobtrusive presence and the woman smiled back before remarking to her friend, "The last scouting party made it back last night – barely."

"What do you mean?" the man asked.

"Only two of them made it," the lady warrior answered, "and one was minus a leg. Said they encountered some darkspawn that was ten feet tall with horns as long as your arm. The injured one died last night. They said his blood was already turning black."

"Maker's breath!" he exclaimed in horrified dismay, "Where are they all coming from?"

The woman shrugged and said, "Well …there's s'posed to be more of these Grey Wardens coming, I hear."

The man scoffed dismissively, "Petrin said they were Orlesians, coming with a whole army of them fancy Orlesian knights."

"If my pa wasn't already in his grave, that'd put him there," the lady soldier replied.

"D'you think they'll leave, once this is done?" The male soldier added with faint sarcasm in his voice, "If we ask them nice?"

"If they don't," the woman answered, "then we keep on fighting, I guess."

The man admitted, "I'd rather fight them painted fops than these darkspawn. That howling of theirs gives me nightmares, it does."

The woman sighed, "Well, there's nothing for it. We need to get back on duty anyhow." They both tipped their heads towards the elven hunter and headed back towards the ramp.

According to Hahren Paivel's history lessons, Orlais, the neighboring country to the west, had conquered Ferelden a century ago. The invaders had been driven out a mere thirty years past – taking the majority of Ferelden's horses with them - and it was clear that most Fereldans were distrustful of inviting the Orlesians back again, even to provide temporary aid against the darkspawn. Kaslyn looked around and saw the terrace extended further east so she went to investigate. The sun had just begun to slide towards the western horizon before she and Duncan had reached the king's camp and she figured if the Warden had intended for her to do more than explore for the rest of the day, he would have said something. Then again, she recalled, he had mentioned some business he had to attend to so maybe that was why she had this time to see the sights. Meandering through the ruin, she discovered another praying Chantry woman, and two discarded sacks. One bag contained a pair of studded leather boots but the other held a bundle of fire arrows. Kaslyn was delighted. She had never used such weapons before and, leaving the score of arrows tied in a bunch, she happily slipped them into her quiver. Avoiding the kneeling priestess on the observational patio, she continued right up to the edge of another damaged ledge overlooking the gorge and the ramparts erected far below. She rested one foot on the tarnished rim of the walkway as again her eye was drawn to her left and the impossibly tall Tower of Ishal looming over the rest of the ruin even at this distance. Kaslyn shook her head in lingering wonder then trotted west back towards the crowd of soldiers still gathered around the darkspawn corpse. Heading north down the ramp, she wondered how much longer they would be able to stand the stench of that thing.

In her haste to see what the group of soldiers was looking at, she had missed the man standing guard outside the deep green and orange tent that stood opposite of the king's quarters. His heavy, red chainmail went well with his short, dark hair and his deeply tanned complexion. His weapon of choice was a greatsword which he wore slung over his back. Noting his restless pacing, she decided to find out what he was guarding in the royal enclave.

"You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain," he informed brusquely her as she got close, "State your business."

Kaslyn had been curious about the teyrn ever since the king had mentioned him him. Rumors floating around the camp claimed he had been friends with King Cailan's father, driven out the Orlesian forces occupying Ferelden, and was now planning the current king's battles. Otherwise, she knew very little about the man. Respecting the guard's direct manner, she replied, "Tell me about Teyrn Loghain."

"How can you not know of Loghain?" He asked, his black eyebrows arching incredulously. When she cocked her head inquisitively at him, the guard continued, "He helped free Ferelden. He was the brains behind King Maric's armies and drove out those damned Orlesians." His chin jerked higher. "King Maric rewarded him by making him the Teyrn of Gwaren. Can you imagine? A commoner became a high nobleman, just like that." He shook his head. "Without Loghain, you can bet the king wouldn't be winning against these darkspawn."

"Is the teyrn inside? What is he doing?" Kaslyn inquired curiously.

"He's inside but … I don't think it's my place to discuss his activities," the guard answered, straightening his shoulders.

Kaslyn lowered her tone and quietly persuaded him, "Surely you can tell me a little about him."

"I suppose…, as long as we talk quietly," the guard dropped his voice and continued, "He and the king have been arguing for days." He glanced around and took a half-step closer to her. "The teyrn's known the king since he was swaddled, so they don't stand on ceremony. The teyrn speaks his mind, and the king yells right back." He snorted, "Personally, I think the king should do what Teyrn Loghain tells him. Without the teyrn, we wouldn't be doing as well here as we are."

Kaslyn nodded thoughtfully. She smiled in thanks at the man and said, "I'll be on my way."

He nodded his head once with a jerk and replied, "Very well."

As she left him to his duty, Kaslyn found she was becoming fascinated by the many varied accents of the people here. Everyone spoke the same language but the speech patterns differed. There was an odd sort of similarity to their pronunciation yet the inflection and emphasis was as varied as the people themselves or perhaps the places they originated. The king and his retainers, the Circle of Magi, and the Chantry priestesses all spoke in a more precisely refined manner while those of other camps had a perceptible drawl in their more casual speech. Duncan, she noted, did not sound like anyone else here and she suspected she didn't either. Given their attempts to restore the elvhen language, mostly lost during their race's enslavement millennia ago, and their ongoing travels, the Dalish had clearly developed their own particuliar dialect.

Kaslyn continued to wander and eventually found that her curiosity had steered her feet westward where the king's hounds were kenneled. It did smell heavily of dog here, she noticed, but the aroma was not really any worse than any other area she had visited today. Intriguingly, the kennels were nearly as busy as the rest of the human camp. Some Dalish clans kept a few small dogs as ratters but her clan did not, and Kaslyn's eyebrows went up when she caught sight of the hounds. She had never seen such huge dogs in her life. Each one a solid black, russet, or white shading down to a darker tone on their feet, their brawny shoulders stood as high as her hip. Nearby a swarthy man paced in front of a wooden fence. Over the small shield and mace riding on his back, he had long, black hair held back from his face by a pair of braids woven above each ear and plaited together in the back. He was one of the few she had seen who was dressed in leather armor, and he wore thick bracers at his wrists. Walking back and forth, he continued to mutter to himself – or to the dogs in the pens beyond.

"Hmmm… this isn't good. I'd hate to waste such a promising member of the breed." A few of the dogs huffed, looking in her direction, and the man turned to her. Black eyebrows rose curiously over his brown eyes and he asked with a soft drawl, "Are you the new Warden? I could use some help."

Kaslyn hesitated then admitted, "I don't know anything about dogs."

"It's not what you know so much as what you are, really," he told her with a hopeful expression. He gestured at the dog in the pen, "This is a mabari. Smart breed and strong. His owner died in the last battle and the poor hound swallowed darkspawn blood." He added, "I have medicine that might help, but I need him muzzled first."

"Why do you think I could muzzle him?" Kaslyn asked warily.

""You're a Grey Warden, or soon will be. All Wardens are immune to the darkspawn taint," He glanced at the dog with some concern then back at her. "The most you have to worry about is some tooth marks."

She frowned somewhat suspiciously and wondered if this was just some lame tactic to get the ignorant elf in a pen with a dangerous animal. She eyed the kennel master but he appeared genuinely troubled. Peering cautiously into the enclosure, she saw an enormous dog pawing at the straw piled in a back corner between the wooden fence and an ancient wall. The top of his withers easily stood higher than her hip and his coat was a snowy white which gradually darkened from his shoulders and hips down all four of his legs to huge, dark-gray paws – or they were just really dirty feet, her sense of humor suggested. Turning around once, he flopped down. The dog laid there panting for a moment or two then got up and restlessly turned in place again before he noticed her watching him. He froze and looked right back at her as though he had never seen anything like her either. The pointed ears of both the elf and the dog pricked up curiously at the same time both cocked their heads and the kennel master chuckled.

"Just how smart is this dog?" Kaslyn asked with some interest. Horses did not appear to be all that intelligent but this hound seemed to be regarding her much as a curious halla might.

He smiled proudly, "Centuries ago, a mage bred them to be smart and understand what they're told. They can remember and carry out complex orders. Most valuable dogs in the world." His features took on a hint of sadness as he went on, "Trouble is, they generally imprint to one master; re-imprinting them is very difficult." The smile became an anxious frown and he added, "But without the medicine, re-imprinting won't be an issue. Will you help?"

Not liking to see any animal suffer, Kaslyn nodded, "I'll give it a shot."

From a pouch on his belt, he handed her a strange contraption comprised of a broad leather sleeve that looked similar to a bracer with a set of straps and buckles attached to one end. At her puzzled expression, he explained to her how the muzzle worked and that the dog would still be able to drink but would not be able open its mouth wide enough to bite. Kaslyn glanced around at the other mabari and noticed the ailing hound looked different than the rest. Sporting short, broad faces and tiny, stubby tails, the other dogs were heavy through the chest and shoulders and their overall build was blocky. With his longer nose, slightly leaner build, and long plume of a tail, this one looked more like a giant wolf. She gestured at the sick dog and asked, "I notice this mabari," and she was pleased she managed to get the name right the first time, "doesn't look like the rest of the dogs here?"

"According to myth, the mabari's said to have been bred from the wolves who served Dane, the legendary Fereldan hero," the kennel master answered. "This one is a throwback. You don't see many of them." He scowled as he added, "Some kennels don't appreciate the throwbacks and drown them at birth so they can pretend they never happened in their lines." He smiled and said, "Fortunately, the king's not like that and neither was this hound's former master."

Kaslyn smirked at the devoted kennel master and slyly commented, "It's all right. I don't mind. A lot of people would like to pretend the Dalish never happened either, you know."

He blinked at her then laughed. When his mirth subsided he told her, "Go in the pen and let him smell you. We'll know right away if he'll respond." He shook his head and his worried expression returned as he added quietly, "Let's hope this works. I'd really hate to have to put him down."

"Does he have a name?" Kaslyn asked before taking a deep breath to steady her nerve.

The kennel master shook his head, "If he did, I never heard his former master mention it."

She nodded at the man in both understanding and readiness. He smiled at her encouragingly, unfastened the latch on a gate, and gestured for her to proceed. Kaslyn carefully entered the enclosure. The dog instantly noticed the activity and quickly got to his feet. Ears forward and tail up, he sniffed the air in her direction and looked her over suspiciously. It was clear he was as anxious and uncertain as the Dalish was. Kaslyn paused just inside the pen and waited patiently. She kept the muzzle openly visible in her hands. The hound was supposed to be smart, after all, and there was no point in surprising him with it – that would just be rude. While she waited for him to make up his mind about her, she inspected him more closely as well. He was a well-proportioned animal with eyes a blue so pale, they appeared to be as silver as the rest of him, and she wondered if that faint hint of smoky darkness tainted her scent as well as his. Evidently satisfied with what he sensed, the dog looked up at her respectfully, finally backing down from his aggressive stance. She could see intelligence in his eyes as well as a great deal of pain. This animal was very ill.

"That's the way, boy," she encouraged him quietly as she took a couple of slow steps towards him and knelt on one knee. His ears pricked forward at her soothing tone. "I know how you feel - all hot and achy and itchy, restless and tired at the same time. Your friend here," she indicated the kennel master with a tilt of her head, "has some medicine that will help you, but he's concerned that you might object to it too strongly and accidentally hurt someone. He asked me to put this mask on you so you won't hurt anyone unintentionally. Will you let me help him help you?"

The dog hesitated then took two steps forward, closing the distance between them, and dipped his head in acquiescence. The mabari growled weakly but did not challenge her. After she put the muzzle on the dog, he whimpered plaintively. She smiled at him with sympathy and, mindful of the man watching nearby, she softly murmured, "Soon. We can both hold out for the cure for just a little while longer. Can't we?" He raised his head in a tired but determined manner and his tail twitched. She smiled and scratched behind the base of one of his ears just above the leather strap. She must have found a sensitive spot because he seemed to grimace as he curved his neck into her hand, increasing the pressure, and one of his back feet started to tap the ground in time with her fingers. Her smile widened and her scratching continued for a few seconds before she stroked his broad head and stood back up. He walked with her to the gate and when she stepped outside the fence, he turned and went back to lie down in his straw bed.

The kennel master beamed at her, "Well done! Most people handle them like they're only dogs. Now I can treat him properly – poor fellow." His expression grew inquisitive as he rubbed his fingers over his bristly chin and asked her, "Come to think of it, are you heading into the Wilds any time soon?"

Kaslyn glanced from him to the dog and back before she answered, "I might be. Why?"

"There's a particular herb I could use to improve the dog's chances. It's a flower that grows in the swamps here, if I remember." He looked at her hopefully, "If you happen across it, I could use it. It's very distinctive: all white with a blood-red center."

"Will the dog be all right without it?" Kaslyn inquired.

"If he doesn't get it, chances are he'll need to be put down," he answered gravely.

"Why don't you get it yourself?" She asked curiously.

"The Wilds are off limits to non-soldiers," he explained somewhat defensively, "and I have many other hounds under my care."

Glancing around at all the other dogs kept here, Kaslyn nodded her understanding. She found she liked this man. He seemed as dedicated to his animals as Maren was to the halla and she could not fault him for that. "Where in the Wilds would I find this flower?"

Apparently accepting her question as understanding and appreciation for his situation, he relaxed as he told her, "It usually grows in dead wood that collects at the edge of ground pools. There should be plenty this time of year."

"I'll see if I can find one," Kaslyn promised.

He smiled at her with some relief, "Good. In the meantime, I'll begin treating our poor friend."

With one last glance at the dog, Kaslyn left. A short distance south of the kennels was a semi-circled cluster of scarlet and yellow tents. In a cleared space in the center of them, she noticed another pack of heavyset hounds that were not confined but mingled freely with more people also dressed in leather armor. Spotting a smaller figure amongst the humans, she caught the weird scent of a city elf. Instead of armor he wore casual clothing and stood with his head slightly bowed. Recognizing a submissive posture and curious why he might be in trouble, she drifted closer to the group.

One of the bearded men standing nearby caught sight of her, "If you have business with the Ash Warriors, I suggest you speak to our commander." He tipped his head towards the man standing before the compliant elf.

Kaslyn looked over at the man indicated. He wore studded leather armor like the rest and carried a greatsword over one shoulder. His black hair was confined to a tidy braid at the back of his head and matched the neatly trimmed beard circling his mouth. Grey eyes scowling, he addressed the timid, young man.

"You there, elf," he growled, pointing at his target, "what's your name?"

"Ah, i-i-it's Pick, ser," the young man stammered nervously.

The Ash Warrior commander's demeanor became even more derisive at this meek response and he ordered, "Go tell Teyrn Loghain that the war party's ready to begin scouting. We'll send word if we find anything amiss."

"Yes, ser! R-right away, ser!" The slim elf spun and dashed off into the rest of the camp.

Turning back to the big, white mabari that was lying down nearby, the commander noted the dog's interest was focused beyond him and looked around to see Kaslyn. He frowned and shook his head, inquiring disparagingly, "Maker's breath – another elf. What do you want?"

Unlike the docile messenger, Kaslyn was not intimidated by these people in the slightest. She stepped right up to him and boldly asked, "You have a problem with elves?"

One corner of the man's mouth pulled sideways into a partial smirk and he carelessly replied, "Not in particular – except for them being so thin-boned. You make good messengers…, sometimes." Seeing she was neither impressed nor cowed, his tone became dismissive, "Is there something you wanted? We have no time for idle chatter." He turned back to attending his hound.

Kaslyn glanced about at the unusual collection of dogs and warriors and bluntly remarked, "You don't look like the other soldiers in the army." They did not smell of armor grease and steel either, but instead more of leather and dog and something a bit stronger.

"We aren't. We're Ash Warriors," he responded as he buckled a heavy leather collar studded with jagged spikes around the dog's neck.

"What's an Ash Warrior?' Kaslyn asked curiously.

He looked at her sharply but she was not mocking him. She genuinely wanted to know. He did not answer immediately but the dog got up and approached the hunter. She continued to stand her ground in a relaxed manner as the enormous mabari circled her while analyzing her and her scent. She watched the hound considerately, but without fear, and the dog went back to his master and flopped down on the ground, scratching at one shoulder without concern.

Evidently assured by the hound's nonchalant response and satisfied she was not trying to antagonize him or frivolously waste his time, he answered haughtily. "Our training has been passed down since Luthias the Dwarfson first harnessed the battle-rage of the dwarves. It is an old tale."

"Can I hear this old tale?" Kaslyn inquired.

"I … am no bard but I will do my best," he admitted somewhat gruffly, obviously pleased with her unexpected interest. "Luthias was a Clayne tribesman. Some said he was too short to be a warrior, but he was strong and fierce," he eyed her. "His chieftain sent him to the dwarves of Orzammar to negotiate an alliance, where he fell in love with the king's daughter, Scaea, and brought her back to his tribe." A smile touched his dour expression as he continued, "She taught Luthias to use the dwarven battle-wrath, to summon his strength and ignore all pain. Luthias then taught this to the Clayne, who made him their chieftain."

Recalling Master Ilen's tale, Kaslyn inquired, "So you descend from the Clayne?"

"They were simply the first to be taught." He replied quietly, "Others were inspired by his death to follow his path."

Kaslyn's head tilted slightly and she asked softly, "How did he die?"

"Luthias' prowess earned him the love of Morighan'nan, a beautiful chieftain of another tribe. When Scaea learned of his seduction, she returned to her people," he explained and his face grew sad. "Luthias was grieved. He sent Morighan'nan away but this only vexed her and began a long war between their tribes." His expression became resolute, "In the end, Luthias slew Morighan'nan in single combat. However, his wounds were great, and he perished when the rage ended." He raised his chin and concluded, "The dwarves came from Orzammar that day and gave Luthias an honored burial in the mountains and we live by his teachings even today."

Kaslyn pondered for a moment then asked, "What happened to his love, Scaea?"

"It is said that before the final battle, she returned to Luthias and gave him a shirt of dwarven chain along with a final night of passion. Then she was gone forever." He shook his head faintly, "If she lived on in Orzammar, only the dwarven folk could say for certain."

Thoughtfully, the Dalish nodded her head. She peered up at him respectfully and said, "An interesting legend. Thank you for telling me."

A look of satisfaction stole briefly across his face and he replied, "It was an honor."

Gesturing around them, Kaslyn asked, "So what does an Ash Warrior do?"

The commander signaled she should come with him and, accompanied by his mabari, he led her deeper into the group as he answered. "We harness the rage inside us, nurture it, and draw it out so we cannot fall in battle until our last foe is slain." He indicated a warrior checking the spiked collar on a dog and said, "It is a dwarven discipline but we have adapted it to let us fight alongside our hounds." He thumped the shoulders of the great dog padding alongside him, adding proudly, "That is our way; I trust my hound with my life, as he trusts me with his."

By now, all the mabari were interested in Kaslyn and were coming by to inspect the newcomer in their midst. Their suspicious partners were somewhat annoyed by the distraction but as the curious hounds investigated then accepted the hunter, so too, did the rest of the Ash Warriors relax. Kaslyn caught their leader inconspicuously watching her through narrowed eyes but her reaction to all this canine examination was the same calm inquisitiveness. She looked at their commander and asked, "Is a dog that good in combat?"

Ostensibly satisfied that her apparent fearlessness was unfeigned, and that she was neither coward nor weakling, one corner of his mouth turned up. "A trained mabari hound is as dangerous as any sword. We do not speak of a … city pet or those things that sit in an old woman's lap," he scoffed with amusement.

Kaslyn grinned then noticed a woman who was applying brightly colored paint to her dog's short fur. Many of the other dogs wore complex designs as well, and she noted the garish colors were nearly as strong as the pungent smell. "Why have you painted your dogs?"

The commander was handed a pot by one of the other warriors and began applying the pigment to his own dog who, without a comment, stood quietly. "They use scent to distinguish us from our enemies, but the blood of battle can confuse them," he explained, raising his chin. "So we paint ourselves with kaddis, which overpowers the blood and also paint our hounds, so they know we are the same."

"What if the enemy is painted with kaddis as well?" Kaslyn asked.

"Why?" He snorted as he continued to dab his hound. "Would you steal our kaddis and give it to the darkspawn hordes?"

"Absolutely not!" She answered with a frown, "I hope you're joking."

"Good," he nodded. "I hear death is unpleasant." His cool expression hardened as he smoothly added, "If you tried, we would kill you and that is no joke."

"Nor should it be," she agreed. Considering how bad the darkspawn smelled and the excitement of combat, it would be easy for anyone, especially the dogs, to lose track of friend and foe. Sending the last of the nosy hounds back to her partner, the Dalish asked, "What are you preparing for?"

"To scout the Wilds and watch the progression of the darkspawn horde. With luck, we'll find and slaughter many stragglers." He glanced at her before turning his attention back to the dog. "The hunt will be good if my hound survives the blood of his prey. If he dies…, I shall mourn tonight."

After talking with other people in the camp, Kaslyn was pretty sure she knew what he meant. She was curious about his perspective, however, so she asked, "Survives the blood? What do you mean?"

He sobered as he continued working and said, "Darkspawn blood is poisonous, but not always fatal. Those dogs who survive grow immune to its effects." He jerked his head towards a large, blue and gray tent to the south, not far from the royal enclave, "The Wardens say the tainted blood drives even the survivors mad eventually …." He smiled at his hound, "But not today. Today we hunt and we kill."

"Wouldn't it be smarter to leave your dogs behind?" She inquired curiously.

"They fight at our side," he responded, "We don't fret over their safety as if they were children."

Kaslyn was familiar with tales of Dalish knights riding into battle on the backs of halla so the idea of fighting alongside a trusted four-foot was not completely foreign, even if she had never done it herself. She also understood the eagerness to get going on a hunt. She had probably distracted him long enough already but she did appreciate his making the effort to talk with her. Finally she said, "I should be going."

He nodded once without looking at her, "My thanks. There is hunting to be done and I'll not be kept from it."

"May your blades - and fangs - bring your prey down swiftly," she gave a traditional hunter salute – slightly modified to include the hounds - and started to leave when she heard his voice again.

"What's your name, elf?" He had paused in what he was doing and turned his head to look over his shoulder at her. His tone of voice sounded intrigued and not disparaging as it had been earlier.

Kaslyn raised her chin at him and replied, "I'm Kaslyn of the Dalish clan Mahariel. Pleased to meet you."

His chin dipped once and he answered, "Aerik, Commander of the Ash Warriors, and my hound is Wraith."

After an appreciative nod at him, she slowly threaded her way through the rest of the Ash Warriors, stopping frequently to ask them about their dogs and their training. Kaslyn was careful not to impede their preparations and was willing to help where she could. The Ash Warriors seemed glad to talk about their hounds but were also clearly focused on readying themselves for their mission. "We must see to our hounds," one woman told her, "To an Ash Warrior, a hound is as much a weapon as a blade." Eventually the growing odor of kaddis on all those around her got to be a bit strong and, rapidly blinking her tearing eyes, she excused herself to investigate more of the king's camp.

"My respects to you, Grey Warden," the last man told her just before she left them.

Spotting the elven messenger turning from a guard at another wooden gate, she recalled Pick was his name. The young man caught sight of her and cautiously approached. It was clear from Pick's watchful, dark eyes that he was as inquisitive about her as she was about him, but it looked as though he might pass her completely without saying anything until she spoke first.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" Pick answered nervously. "I'm sorry, is there something you needed?"

"What do you mean?" Kaslyn asked perplexed.

"I deliver messages around the camp," he clarified. "You have a message for me?"

"No," Kaslyn blinked, "I just wanted to talk."

"Are you the new Grey Warden recruit? I was just walking by when I heard…," he ducked his head as though he might be in trouble. When she utterly failed to respond, he looked back up and spoke with more eagerness, "Oh, it must be exciting to be so important. W-wait…," he stuttered anxiously, "You aren't here to tell me I'm in trouble, are you?"

"Not that I know of," she replied. His nervousness was starting to make her edgy.

"That's a relief," he sighed, running a hand back through his short, brown curls. Apparently seeing her look of confusion, he explained, "I'm one of the king's servants, which means I run messages around and make deliveries all day long." He lowered his voice and said, "If you fall behind, you get the switch from the Quartermaster! Oh, I wish I were back at the palace! There are far more places to hide!" He sighed and admitted reluctantly, "I better go. If the Quartermaster sees me chatting, he'll think I'm being lazy and that'll be my hide, but it was nice talking to someone."

He gave her one last friendly smile then took off for other parts of the camp, leaving the Dalish befuddled what to make of that exchange. On the one hand, she was glad to see another elf. It made the camp seem ever-so-slightly less foreign. On the other hand, Pick might as well be a human for all the differences between the insecure city-dweller and the self-assured Dalish. For a moment, she felt a pang in her heart at how completely alone she was now and the loneliness was almost more than she could stand. She blinked a few times then shook her head and started towards the far southwest corner of the encampment where she had spied another elfroot plant growing next to a huge pine amidst a few other large trees. While she harvested what she could, she took the opportunity to study the nearby wall of the ruin. The wall was not that high here and the stones were weather-beaten as everywhere else, providing plenty of hand and footholds. Putting away the leaves and roots she had collected, she recognized this as the corner where the listing ruin above closed off the archers' shooting gallery. In fact, off to her right she noticed that half the corner of the wall had collapsed and one small section stood only about waist high. She would not even need to scale the wall there; she could practically step over the slumped debris. Glancing about, she did not see anyone looking in her direction and took a quick peek on the other side of the wall. The wind was wrong or she would have noticed much sooner that this side of the camp was closest to the wilderness beyond. The ground was level here and she could see a trail leading off from the neighboring gate, presumably into the Wilds. This discovery was somewhat heartening to the Dalish that, should she wish to leave, there were a few ways in or out that did not involve directly passing the guards. Before anyone could take note of her interest, she made her way through the grove and in the direction of the western gate where she had previously seen Pick.

There was a guard here as at all the other exits she had encountered but this one had a pale mabari keeping him company. He wore the typical grey iron chainmail with an open-faced, visored helmet, and was armed with a mace and shield. The older man smiled amiably when he saw her approach.

"Hail!" He greeted her cheerfully, "You're one of Duncan's new recruits, correct? I can't let you through to the Korcari Wilds until he gives the word."

Kaslyn had no idea if she would actually get into the Wilds in the near future. Still, she felt reasonably confident her survival skills would at least allow her to accomplish the kennel master's request fairly quickly, and responded, "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Sorry," he replied in a pleasant but firm manner, "I have my orders. I can't let you through."

"Why not?" Kaslyn asked. She was a little puzzled. This man sounded almost like he actually cared what happened to her. That couldn't be right.

"The Korcari Wilds is a dangerous place," he gently warned, "more so now that it crawls with darkspawn. They say the Great Blight began deep within its forests," he told her. "One of our scouting patrols has been gone for three days. We're taking bets on who got them first: the darkspawn or the witches of the Wilds."

"The witches of the Wilds?" Kaslyn repeated blankly.

"Oh, sure," he nodded, smiling. "There's an old legend in these parts about Flemeth, the apostate sorceress who conquered this area centuries ago. She united the Chasind barbarians and invaded the farmlands," he told her. "That's when the great hero, Cormac, destroyed her army with his. Took her head right off, so they say," he made a scything motion with his hand and continued. "Her daughters survived and became the witches of the Wilds. Tales tell of them plaguing this area since. Mostly superstitions – stealing babies and spoiling milk."

Kaslyn cocked her head at him and asked, "And you think these witches exist?" The Dalish had tales of Flemeth as well, so the name was not completely unfamiliar to the hunter. They knew the legendary mage as Asha'belannar, the Woman of Many Years.

He grinned, "Aw…, only when it's dark and the wind is bad. No doubt those patrols met some darkspawn …. That's enough for anyone to worry about." He resumed his previous stance, straightening his shoulders and crossing his hands behind his back. "At any rate, that's why Duncan doesn't want you wandering out without his say-so."

Kaslyn blinked and twitched her nose thoughtfully. She seriously doubted Duncan did not want her going into the Wilds because of the rumors of witches. More than likely he did not want her – or any of the recruits – running into more darkspawn than she could handle. Noting that the guard was still watching her, she nodded her understanding with a smile and left. She had gotten a pretty good look at that wall earlier. If she did not eventually get sent out into the Wilds officially, she could always slip out, find the flower the kennel master needed, and probably slide back in without arousing too much suspicion or commotion. Actually, as long as she could get out unnoticed, getting back inside should be no problem – as long as she was willing to take the reproach that would no doubt follow.

Several yards to the north of the Wilds gate was another ramp and Kaslyn trotted up to see what was there. At the top she nearly wheeled right back around. Great orange and yellow tents decorated with the sunburst design of the Chantry were pitched along the western stone wall up here. On her right, were more tents and a wooden sign marked 'Infirmary'. Several cots, some of them occupied by soldiers, were set up outside and men and women in brightly colored clothing walked among the patients, stopping every so often to check on one. On the far side of the area, she spotted the four men she had encountered earlier. Catching sight of her as well, the lingering soldiers stiffened and glanced about nervously before they nodded their bandaged faces respectfully in her direction, and hastily took their leave westward. Tentatively Kaslyn started by the line of beds. A few men were lying here, restlessly tossing, and she felt an odd sort of phantom itch behind her breastbone. One of the agitated men started moaning, "He… calls! It…I can feel it inside me…! It hurts… so much!"

A dusky, older woman clad in a vivid, red and purple dress came swiftly to his side and spoke quietly as she knelt to wipe his face with a cool, damp rag taken from a nearby basin of water. Pushing a lock of her long, brown hair behind one ear, she noticed the hunter and said, "You may not want to remain here long, Warden. Most of these men have been tainted by the darkspawn blood."

Kaslyn acknowledged she heard the nurse and continued her course, bypassing rows of cots. A blond, bearded man, bearing several bandaged wounds, propped himself up on one elbow as she strode by him. Sweating and trembling, he called out to the passing hunter and in a quiet but frantic tone he urged her to convince the rest of the army to run from the coming darkspawn. The Dalish felt a little peculiar trying to comfort a sick human but when she told him there were Grey Wardens present, he insisted that the Wardens, the king, and everyone there would all die. A brunette nurse hurried up to them and explained that, aside from his minor wounds, the man was untainted but simply terrified by what he had seen of the horde. Deciding that the soldier had no important information, his commanding officer had brought him to the infirmary to recuperate rather than infect the rest of his company with his fear.

"You… you can feel it, can't you?" The soldier hissed between gritted teeth, looking right at the Dalish. "They taint the land, turn it black and sick. Oh, you can feel it inside! They'll come out of that forest and spread! Like caterpillars covering a tree; they'll swallow us whole!"

"That's quite enough out of you," the nurse tried to soothe him, using a rag to wipe the sweat from the trembling man's face. "You need to calm yourself, my good man."

"They were everywhere! I _saw_ them," he insisted. Lying back down, he turned his head away from them. "I – I don't want to see anymore. I close my eyes and … Please, just leave me be …"

Kaslyn recognized there was nothing she could do here. She hid a shiver as she left the infirmary and without thinking about it rubbed at her chest. If Duncan was right, that might be her in the not so far future. No, she decided, that man had been terrified. Kaslyn was not afraid, she was tainted, and she had come here at Duncan's request and offer of a cure. She might die of this sickness but she would not be found quivering in fear amidst the wounded. She turned her attention back to her surroundings and with some exasperation found herself deep in the heart of the Chantry encampment.

Near a few large trees there was another blond priestess, dressed in her official, reddish, Chantry robes, holding another prayer meeting at a statue of a woman with a bowl. Gathered around her were a group of plate-mailed knights and one or two warriors in heavy chainmail armor. Kaslyn tried to skirt this assembly as she had the previous one and had about as much luck.

"In the name of Andraste," the Chantry woman intoned, extending her hand above the heads of those before her, "I bless you today. May you find favor in the Maker's eyes. So let it be." Catching sight of the passing hunter, she spoke up, "Ah! I suspect you are one of the new Grey Wardens. Will you accept the Maker's blessing?"

Kaslyn froze, wincing slightly. So much for remaining unnoticed, she thought. Turning to face the woman, she quietly replied, "I do not worship your gods, human."

The priestess's eyes brightened and she responded with mild condescension, "A Dalish wanderer, I presume. The Maker will not refuse to bless you - if you are willing to receive him."

Kaslyn hesitated, thinking rapidly. Elvhen refusal of the Maker was what caused the Dalish homeland to be crushed and the slaughter of her people. Standing there in the Chantry encampment, surrounded by their Maker-fearing followers, she realized she was the guest in the humans' territory now. She sighed, recalling her earlier decision to avoid religious complications. Suddenly she looked sharply at the eager priestess, catching the woman's implication that her Maker was all graciously willing, but if Kaslyn refused to accept she would be accused of being a typically-intolerant, hateful Dalish. That sort of presumption annoyed her no end. She started to take umbrage but realized doing so might eventually reflect badly on Duncan or the Grey Wardens. It finally occurred to her that cooperation would ultimately cost her nothing so she shrugged and obliquely allowed, "Very well. I've no objection to the blessing of your god."

The Chantry woman's eyebrows arched upwards. She had obviously been anticipating a good castigation of the heathen. Recovering quickly, however, she held her hand out towards the Dalish and closed her eyes. She did not see the hunter lean back a bit as she said, "Then I bless you, Grey Warden, in the name of Andraste and the Maker above. May the Chant of Light carry your name to the ears of our Lord."

Not knowing what else to do, Kaslyn nodded once and made her escape. She seriously doubted the almighty Chant of Light had room in it for the names of Dalish hunters but her cooperation had at least contented the zealous Chantry woman and gotten her off Kaslyn's back. It wasn't all bad, the hunter mused, at least Andraste was known to her people. Unlike the humans who named her prophet and bride of their Maker, the elvhen who became the Dalish knew her as a war leader. One who, like them, had been a slave and dreamed of liberation. When Andraste led the rebellion against the Tevinter Imperium, the elves – following the elven hero Shartan - joined her. Although he and many other elves died beside her, un-mourned, in Tevinter bonfires, the insurgents eventually prevailed, and were rewarded for their alliance with the land called the Dales in southern Orlais – for a while. Being blessed in Andraste's name might not be so bad, Kaslyn supposed, even if her Chantry had run amok since those ancient days.

She was distracted from these tart thoughts when she noticed another wooden gate some yards to the north and west of where she was. Although this one was also constructed of wood and guarded by a man and a hound, unlike the other barricades she had seen, this one was open. Curiosity piqued, she hurried over and started to ask about this larger, western portion of the camp when the tanned, blond guard held up a cautionary hand. "Sorry, miss," he told her, "The army camp is off-limits for you right now."

Sighing in frustration, she peered through the opening and saw that the valley beyond was apparently separated from the rest of the Wilds by a steep and jagged mountain ridge. Hundreds of tents dotted the meadow and seemed to be grouped, she guessed, according to the various colors of whomever the troops served. From where she stood, she could see a great many people going about their routines and chores. A crowd of knights and soldiers started to exit west through the gateway and Kaslyn moved further aside, consciously staying within eyesight of the guard. As they passed by, the hunter overheard some of their conversation.

"It's good to have Grey Wardens amongst us. With their help, perhaps we can push these things back underground for good!" said one man eagerly.

"Teyrn Loghain may not think much of the Wardens but the king was wise to bring them here."

"Ser Duncan appears to be a worthy leader. The Wardens are fortunate," another man agreed.

"I hope the Grey Wardens from Orlais arrive in time."

"I have great respect for the Wardens… unless they're from Orlais," one woman commented coolly.

"The Orlesian Grey Wardens would be a great support in the coming battle," another man protested.

"Ferelden can defeat these things on its own. We need no… Orlesian … charity…," was her disdainful reply.

Beginning to feel the first stirrings of confinement, Kaslyn nonetheless nodded at the guard and turned back to the rest of the king's camp, wondering how much was left to explore up here. Her unease at the notion of being trapped was followed by the quandary of whether she should try to sneak off into the Wilds sooner rather than later. Choosing to focus on one thing at a time, she continued to investigate the rest of the place where she was allowed to roam. Eventually she found herself in a corner between a Chantry tent and part of an overgrown, ruined wall where she had spied a discarded longbow. Although the elmwood had clearly been shaped by humans, it reminded her of Tamlen's bow. She sighed and wondered what he would have made of this odd place and these strange people. Aside from the fact, of course, that he would have likely been in twice as many fights as she had, she thought with a wistful smile; he really had not liked humans for some reason.

Shaking off her melancholy, Kaslyn decided to ramble on. Further east of the army gate, she caught sight of a mostly naked man sitting in one of two, tall, narrow cages hanging a few feet off the ground. He was thin, dirty, and haggard-looking, and suddenly she chafed a little less about her restrictions. Wondering what he had done to merit such incarceration, she hesitantly approached the lone prisoner but the nearby guard paid her no mind.

In no time at all, Kaslyn made the acquaintance of a remarkably cheerful fellow who candidly inquired if she might have a bit of kindness in her since he was starving. He had been caught sneaking around camp in the middle of the night, locked up on charges of desertion, and had not been fed since. In exchange for some food and water, he quietly offered to trade a key he had taken from a drunken mage. The key, he assured her, opened a chest full of magical treasures located over in the magi encampment.

Kaslyn pondered the man's situation. She was actually somewhat surprised to find out he hadn't even been sentenced yet. Punishment in her tribe was usually meted out fairly quickly if not on the spot. Then again, desertion was unthinkable for the Dalish since that would mean abandoning clanmates. Noting the prisoner's scarce hair or beard, and scant underclothing, she asked, "They didn't find the key when you were arrested?"

"I swallowed it," he promptly explained with a twinkle in his brown eyes. "But it's … uhhh… come back into my possession … since then, so to speak."

Both disgusted and yet impressed at the lengths he had gone to retain his prize, she also felt some sympathy for the man. Hard times in the past had familiarized her with what an empty belly felt like and she decided to see what she could do. In appreciation for her efforts, the prisoner urged her to ask the nearby guard for the dinner he had stuffed into his coat.

Setting her sights on the guard, it occurred to her to wonder why she was even involving herself in this issue. She could easily imagine every member of her clan rolling their eyes at her now, but apparently she just couldn't tolerate anyone suffering if she could fix it – or maybe she was soft, after all. Kaslyn approached the bored and restless guard standing a little ways from them. He was eager to go do something else and was all in favor of hanging the deserter as an example. Kaslyn was in no position to influence the prisoner's sentence or the guard's relief but she eventually informed the guard of the prisoner's request for food and water.

The guard grinned without sympathy. Crossing his arms over his chest, he pointed out, "Since nobody sends me nothing to feed him with, the only way he'll get that is if I give him mine!"

A little disturbed about such a casual disregard for another person's life, the Dalish frowned wryly at him and argued, "So you miss one meal – this man could be hanged soon!"

"All right, all right," the guard conceded grudgingly. "I guess the poor fella could stand to have one meal in his belly before he hangs. Don't know why you care," he muttered. He reached into his mail coat to pull out a fist-sized loaf of bread and took a small flask from his belt. As he handed them to her, he insisted, "I had nothing to do with it, though. If anyone asks why he's burpin', I'm gonna say it was you, just so you know."

Kaslyn acknowledged her understanding while she examined the items he had given her. The small flask contained relatively clean water and the bread was some sort of biscuit that was rock hard. She shook her head in disbelief of what these people considered edible and returned to the hanging cage, offering the comestibles dubiously. The prisoner eagerly accepted the rations and thanked her, "Much obliged. May Andraste herself rain blessings upon you!" Under cover of accepting the provisions, he slid his hand towards her discreetly and in a lower voice he added, "And …, as I mentioned, here's the key. Use it in good health, eh?" He wasted no time and immediately started gnawing on his food.

She raised her chin in an inconspicuous agreement, palmed the key, and walked away. A judicious distance away from the cages, she stopped and inspected her treasure. It was an ornate key in questionable condition. Oddly enough, it was a little warm and, given its recent journey into her hands, she took some time to thoroughly wash it and her hands in a clear, out-of-the-way puddle. Given the quality of the rations she had passed to him, she was pretty sure she had gotten the better end of that deal. Dropping her prize into one of her pouches, she looked around.

The group that had surrounded the Chantry lady had broken up and was starting to go their separate ways while the pretentious priestess bustled south towards the infirmary. As a relieved Kaslyn was passing the grove, she was hailed by one of the men who had been listening to the woman earlier. He was of average human size with very short, receding brown hair and a closely-trimmed brown beard on his pale-skinned chin. He wore grey iron chainmail reinforced with brown leather and was armed with an enormous, two-handed greatsword. Slightly downwind of her, he did not really smell like anything distinctive other than his armor and bland broth.

"Greetings! You must be the third recruit we've heard about?" he remarked in a sociable manner.

Uncertain what he might have heard about her – or from whom at this point - she responded somewhat hesitantly, "Yes. I am Kaslyn of clan Mahariel. You've heard about me?"

"Not a great deal. We've been waiting for your arrival, though," he replied. "Ser Jory is my name. I hail from Redcliffe, where I served as knight under the command of Arl Eamon." His brown eyes looked at her uncertainly, "I wasn't aware elves could join the Grey Wardens. Those camped in the valley are all human."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kaslyn asked. Wonderful, she thought dryly, not only was the king's camp full of humans, apparently so were the Grey Wardens.

"Just that in… some places, elves are not always permitted in the military," he answered nervously. Hastily he continued in a more excited tone, "I hope we're both lucky enough to eventually join the Wardens. Is it not thrilling to be given that chance?"

He was either amazingly naive, she thought twitching her nose, or at the very least, not all that smart. An inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Hahren Paivel's warned her to 'be nice' and she slid past his question by commenting, "You sound like you're looking forward to it."

"I fought hard at a tournament in Highever to get here," he answered, straightening his shoulders proudly, "Impressing Duncan wasn't easy."

"Aren't you nervous about fighting darkspawn?" Kaslyn inquired. Facing other people and facing monsters were two entirely different beasts but she would not belittle his achievement. After all, what had she done to impress Duncan enough to invite her here? Gotten sick? Fallen off a horse?

"I would be lying if I said I wasn't," he admitted. "As a boy, my mother told us darkspawn hunted down all children who misbehaved," he shrugged sheepishly, "It is a foolish superstition, I know, but I still shiver when I think of fighting them." He raised his chin at her and asked, "Tell me, has anyone told you what this Joining ritual entails?"

Kaslyn was uncertain of how much she should tell this knight. He already seemed somewhat anxious and she did not want to make him worse by informing him that Duncan had mentioned the ritual could be dangerous, so she casually responded, "It's all a big secret, apparently."

"I never heard of such a ritual. I had no idea there were more tests after getting recruited," he remarked. His expression brightened and he said, "I suppose since you're finally here I'd best get back to Duncan. I shall see you there." He nodded once at her and strode off towards a ramp to the east.

Kaslyn wondered what sorts of Wardens were camped in the valley with the rest of the army. If they were anything like Ser Jory, she just might be the fox in the chicken flock, she thought then chided her conceit to wait and see. Ser Jory might turn out to be a ferocious warrior; they had only just met, after all. Glancing towards the sun, she saw that it was getting on towards late afternoon and she still had no idea where she might find this Grey Warden named Alistair. She didn't even know what he might look like.

She wandered over to the eastern ramp she had seen Ser Jory taking and gratefully decended out of the Chantry encampment. A vaguely familiar, acrid odor caught her attention and she found she only needed to follow her nose northward to a forge where a sign nearby identified the blacksmith as the Quartermaster. Not far from the smithy stood a scruffy-looking, dark-haired man in studded leather armor with an ash wood longbow on his back. He was obviously attempting to charm a tall soldier who wore her sunny-blond hair in a tidy knot at the crown of her head, well above her chainmail armor and the sword and shield at her back. Pausing to dig around in her pack to gather the things she had collected for trade, Kaslyn overheard the bowman.

"So? Any last wishes I can help fulfill before you head into battle?" He asked the warrior woman. "Life is fleeting, y'know. That pretty face could be decorating some darkspawn spear this time tomorrow." He paused, then, "Shall I take that quiet glare as a 'no'? Ah, well…, too bad."

The Dalish glanced up at that. Still scowling, the warrior walked away from the man and shot the hunter an exasperated look that women of all races have exchanged over men forever. Kaslyn smirked and the lady soldier rolled her eyes and grinned in response. Passing the preoccupied hunter, the blond woman continued on her way towards the ramp and presumably towards the army camp to the west. From the corner of her eye, Kaslyn glimpsed the rough-looking archer smooth a hand over his short, black hair and look at her speculatively. Before he could try to turn his wiles on her, she spoke first.

"You didn't really expect that comment about her face and the spear to work, did you?" Kaslyn asked quietly.

Surprised at first, his expression stretched into a wicked smirk, "Well, you're not what I thought you'd be."

Kaslyn raised her head to look at him. She wondered just how long these people had speculated about her and asked, "Meaning what? Just what did you think I'd be?"

"Oh, me and ser knight were just betting on what the third recruit would be. Not an elf. Yet here you are!" His grin widened. Gesturing briefly to himself, he added, "The name's Daveth. Heh, it's about bloody time you came along. I was beginning to think they cooked this ritual up just for our benefit."

"What do you know about this ritual?" Kaslyn asked. What was next, she wondered sardonically, a comment about her gender?

"I happened to be sneaking around camp last night, see, and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking. So, I listen in for a bit," he nodded at her in emphasis, "I'm thinking they plan to send us into the Wilds."

That supposition did not frighten Kaslyn but it obviously disturbed Daveth. She cocked her head at him and prompted, "The Wilds?"

He indicated the forest to the south and said, "We're right on the northern edge of the Korcari Wilds here. Miles and miles of savage country," he told her, "My home village isn't far and I grew up on tales about the Wilds. Even been in there a few times … scary place."

Kaslyn still did not hear a reason in that explanation and plainly asked, "Why are the Wilds so frightening?"

Brown eyes watching her, he grinned, "Cannibals, beasts, witches, and now darkspawn? What isn't to be scared of?"

It finally dawned on her that, despite a complete lack of encouragement, Daveth might be trying to frighten her into seeking his 'comfort' as he had the lady warrior before her. If so, she was definitely not charmed and remarked, "This seems like an odd place for an army to camp then."

"I'm told the Blight started in the forest so the army's here waiting for them to come out," he remarked, "Dangling meat in front of the bear, if you catch my meaning."

"Then why would they send us into the forest?" Kaslyn inquired.

"Sounds like some kind of test. Maybe we'll hunt us a souvenir or two," he suggested. "It's all too secretive for me – makes my nose twitch." Daveth shrugged, "I guess we'll have to wait and see. Heh, like we have a choice."

"They're forcing you to be here?" Kaslyn asked, eyeing him sharply.

"I got nowhere else to go after what Duncan saved me from," he admitted. His glum expression was replaced with a smirk, "Anyway, I expect it's time to get back to Duncan. That's where I'll be if you need me for anything!" With a wink and a nod, he strode off to the south.

Kaslyn pondered that conversation. Easy-going Daveth, who smelled like leather and jerky, certainly appeared to have more sense than nervous Ser Jory. Then again, she reminded herself, they might both be quite different in the heat of combat. Perhaps she would find out all in Duncan's good time.

She pulled everything she wanted to sell or trade to the top of her pack and continued on towards the blacksmith. He was a big, balding man, with broad shoulders and a stout build, who smelled of hot metal, leather, and his own perspiration. He had heavy, black sideburns, a mustache, and a patch of hair under his lower lip. His sturdy green-and-yellow plaid shirt was somewhat stained from the sweat of his labors, and a thick leather apron covered his brown trousers and heavy boots. Glancing up when he noticed her approach, the older man wiped off his face and hands on a rag pulled from his back pocket and growled impatiently, "You there! Elf! Where's my armor?" He scowled at her as he took in her appearance and added, "And why are you dressed so preposterously?"

Oddly enough, his gruff manner tickled Kaslyn's amusement and she replied impishly, "Because I'm here to become a Grey Warden?"

His thick eyebrows shot up in surprise at her unexpected response, "You're … oh! Yes, of course!" He started stammering uncomfortably, "I … p-please forgive my rudeness!" He stuffed away the rag and shook his hands at her, "There are so many elves running about, and I've been waiting for … It's simply been so hectic! I never thought …." He tried to pull himself together, "P-Please pardon my terrible manners! I … I am just the Quartermaster – Mortimer's my name - a simple man, no one special…."

The Dalish blinked. He was clearly overawed and Kaslyn was drawing a blank as to why. As far as she knew, she was not remotely intimidating and the man was nearly half again taller than she was and twice as wide. At something of a loss she finally responded, "Don't worry about it. My name is Kaslyn of clan Mahariel."

"Thank you!" He promptly replied with a hesitant smile. "Did you … come for some supplies, perhaps?"

"What kind of supplies do you have?" Kaslyn inquired, wondering if she would need to look about the Wilds for more than flowers for the kennel master. She nonchalantly rubbed the side of her nose.

"Arms and armor, for the most part. It's for the king's men, but you Grey Wardens can buy what you need for a modest price," he explained. He brushed the side of his own nose and in a more discreet tone he revealed, "I also have some, ah … goods on the side I can provide. Strictly off the record, of course, to keep morale up, you understand," he assured her.

"Let me see what you have," she nodded.

"Let me know what you'd like," he told her, obviously relieved no offense had been taken from his earlier harsh tone. He turned and started opening some of the chests he had arranged near his work area.

After she browsed his wares, she quietly suggested, "Let me see your 'other goods', please."

"So long as you keep it quiet," he muttered confidentially.

Kaslyn made note of what else he had to offer but decided to hold off on purchasing anything for the time being. They haggled back and forth until both were satisfied over the prices of the goods she sold to him. It felt odd to actually bargain for money but she was grateful Master Ilen had insisted on teaching the clan youngsters about trade. When the last of her loot was sold, she paused. Her conscience was nagging. Quietly she said, "You know, Master Mortimer, perhaps you could treat your servants a little more kindly."

"Yes, of course," he agreed with a sigh, "you're very right." Noting her encouraging expression he smiled reassuringly and sent her off. "Maker be with you in the coming battle, Kaslyn."

The hunter bid him farewell and ventured further east, curious about which chest her recently acquired key might fit. Crossing the encampment, she soon found herself at the back of the mage's enclave. Their bright purple and lavender tents were quite distinctive and Kaslyn again observed that the mages that strolled around here had wisely chosen to wear brown, tan, and green robes. They were still ornate but much more in keeping with the wilderness colors that surrounded them. She also noted that while some of them interacted animatedly with their fellows, others went about their apparent duties without any expression whatsoever on their faces. Kaslyn approached one such impassive man who was evidently left to guard a collection of chests and some nearby firewood. He had collar-length black hair and wore the green and brown robes of a mage but his narrow face was blank and he looked as though he might as well have been a tree planted there. If that tree had spent a lot of time around lyrium, she perceived in his scent. He didn't smell bad, but rather like the nearby pines with a strong tinge of the magical substance. Curious about such contented stillness, and wondering if one of these boxes might be the chest to her new key, she casually drew near the man and politely said, "Hello."

"Welcome, young woman," he responded in a soft, monotone voice.

There was an awkward pause. When nothing else was apparently forthcoming from him, she bluntly asked, "Who are you?"

In that same measured tone he replied, "I am one of the Tranquil, my friend. I am of the Circle of Magi, but instead of casting spells and reading tomes, I spend my time enchanting," he explained. "It is a time-consuming process, but invaluable. Enchantment provides the Circle its wealth. Certainly we would not get by on charity."

The hunter looked at him sharply for a second, wondering if he was trying to be funny, but it was clear he was completely in earnest. She chewed her lower lip a moment then remarked, "You speak very strangely. Why is that?" She could practically hear Hahren Paivel groaning at her complete lack of manners, but she wanted to know and the man certainly did not appear to be offended. Could one offend a Tranquil?

Completely unperturbed, the man answered, "Allow me to put it this way: Do you know why those with magical talent are feared?"

Kaslyn had never been taught to fear magic. She respected Keepers and their Firsts, but magic was a tool just like any other. Granted, it could be exceptionally dangerous but so was Fenarel wielding anything but a bow. She acknowledged his question with the expected response, "Because magic is powerful and dangerous."

"It is dangerous beyond its power," he said. "Those with magical talent attract demons and spirits. We can be possessed easily, and thus become horrors known as abominations," he went on, "Even those with minor talents attract hungry spirits. Anyone with the power may learn blood magic from these demons. Hence we are considered dangerous. This is our curse." He stated evenly, "Thus I was made Tranquil. Stripped of emotions and talent, I am no longer dangerous."

Kaslyn looked down and her eyes roved as she considered his words. The Dalish believed that everyone was born with a spark of magic. For some, summoning sorcery was as natural as drawing a deep breath, while others had to make some sort of effort, and the rest had no interest in drawing on that particular gift at all. Dalish magic was old and apparently unlike human magic because she didn't immediately recall a Keeper or a First becoming possessed, though she knew it could probably happen. She looked back at the man and inquired, "How is someone made Tranquil?"

"Our forehead is branded with magic, which stills our talent and mind. The process is irreversible, as far as I am aware," he said placidly.

Well, of course, she thought, glancing around them again. Would they let mages be aware if the process was reversible? By the time they were tranquilized, they wouldn't have any concern one way or another anyway. That explanation at least accounted for the faint Chantry-sun scar she had glimpsed centered on his brow. She couldn't imagine such a thing being done to Keeper Marethari or Merrill. Sure, she herself had recently suffered heartache and her curiosity was occasionally problematic – not to mention her temper - but the thought of being as indifferent to the world as a drifting leaf was enough to send a shiver up her spine. She took back her previous analogy. He was nothing like a tree. Trees grew and changed, reacting to the world around them, but apparently the Tranquil did not. "I feel badly for you," she found herself admitting.

"You do?" he asked. "I feel nothing. As the name suggests, my existence is quite peaceful. I am alive, productive, and no danger to anyone. Surely that is not a terrible thing?" Apparently 'feeling nothing' did not prevent him from noting the disquiet of others or maybe he had simply had this conversation before as he said, "Perhaps we may speak of something else. Do you need assistance?"

"What is enchantment exactly?" Kaslyn wanted to know, relieved to have something else to talk about.

"It is the process of folding magical lyrium into items, first practiced by the dwarves," he answered. "The Tranquil have learned their runes, and we use them to apply a variety of magical effects. We create the glow-lights, as well as the magic staff or the flaming blade," he explained. "The irony, perhaps, is that it is our very disconnection to our former talents that allows the Tranquil to work with lyrium so. A true mage could not."

"What sort of enchantments are there?" Kaslyn asked.

"Runes exist that hold the power of the elements, that increase strength or swiftness … almost any spell can be given permanency, given enough skill and lyrium," he said. "Naturally, the greater the power required, the more expensive the rune will become to create. True power comes with a price, as we know only too well."

Kaslyn twitched her nose – and they were right back to the beginning of their discussion. This seemed as good a spot as any to excuse herself so she nodded at the Tranquil and murmured, "I'll be on my way."

"Goodbye," he said. He watched her with all the interest of a mote of dust in a sunbeam.

Kaslyn turned and walked away from him. As unsettling as that conversation might have been, she now had a good idea of which chest the key probably opened. Now it was just a matter of opportunity. Since she was already at the magi encampment, she followed the line of their tents back around to the guard at the entrance on this side of the ruins. He looked pleased to see her again and asked, "Somewhere I can direct you?"

"I'm looking for a Grey Warden named Alistair," she replied with an abashed smile. She had no idea if this man would know Alistair or not but he was as good a place to start as any.

"Try heading north," he suggested, hooking his thumb over his shoulder in the appropriate direction. "I think he was sent with a message to the mages."

Kaslyn thanked him and returned to the camp. She took the northern passage she had just used and approached the mage encampment again. Speaking to a warrior guarding the sorcerers, he irritably directed her further north. More mages were stirring swirly lights about themselves in the courtyard and rather than disturb them or their cranky watchers, Kaslyn decided to take the long way around the perimeter of their camp again. As she trotted around their purple tents and faced north, she spotted a ramp leading higher into the ruin. Feeling mighty stupid for having missed it the first time she was over here, she silently cursed her dim-wittedness and hastily scampered up the incline. Passing under a tall, pointed archway, she entered a vast gallery that stretched east to west, and was lined with a series of tall pillars near the outer walls. Part of the hall ceiling was missing, however, leaving the closest columns supporting empty arches and blue sky. Nearby was yet another ramp ascending eastward and guarded by a huge statue of a man holding some sort staff before him. Underneath the intact, far-western portion of the roof, she saw several elves attending to numerous tables. Intrigued at the sight, and by what the place was used for, she turned her steps left.

It turned out the area was undergoing preparations for the evening meal. While one woman made certain the long table at the end of the hall was spotless, another woman and man gathered metal dishes from an adjacent chest and stacked them on the left end of the tabletop. Before them, a few other elves tidied more tables and benches set perpendicular to the first. All were dressed in casual clothes and appeared to be somewhat older than the Dalish. Kaslyn wasted no time introducing herself.

Emalia, who wore her black hair tied away from her face in three small bunches behind her neck and ears, quickly excused herself to return to her task of cleaning the wide table, "I'm sorry but there's so much to do before supper. I must attend to my duties or I'll get the switch."

Fortunately the other two elves were a bit more conversationally inclined. Rosali, who looked to be the eldest, had long, strawberry-blond hair which contrasted intriguingly with her dark complexion, while Mendrik had dark blond hair, a prominent nose, and a rather square jaw. They both agreed that it was good to see more elves in camp and marveled that Kaslyn was 'a real Dalish'. Rosali gave her a look through shrewd, green eyes and asked, "Aren't you the new recruit Ser Duncan came in with earlier today?" When the hunter acknowledged that she was, the older woman shook her head and smiled, "I didn't know elves could join the Grey Wardens – amazing. You're very lucky to have such an opportunity."

Mendrik agreed, "I think it's wonderful you became a Grey Warden."

Kaslyn felt she had to be somewhat honest at that point and admitted, "I'm not a Grey Warden just yet. I think Duncan has a test or two in mind for me before that happens."

"Well, you tell me if you need anything, Kaslyn, and I'll try to get it," Mendrik grinned. The Dalish returned his smile shyly and thanked him. He winked at her and in a confidential tone, added, "Don't try the stew – just between you and me."

Kaslyn's smile widened in understanding and she left them. There was only one more place to check and if the Grey Warden she sought was not there, she was not entirely certain what she would do at that point. She trotted back to the east, up the ramp there, and paused in the shadow of an archway that looked onto a wide open courtyard encircled by more broken columns. In the center of the expanse a lean man with short, black hair spoke with with a brawny fellow who was clearly a warrior. In contrast to the swarthy mage's ornate, garishly-colored robes of oddly-hued red and greenish-gold and wooden staff riding over one shoulder, the younger, fair-haired man wore grey iron splintmail and carried a longsword and a wooden shield on his back; both armor and weapons borne with the ease of long familiarity. His hair was brownish blond with hints of red and cut very short save for what was left long enough to tousle over his forehead, and his face, bearing a faint shadow of beard on his chin, was tanned from long hours spent outside. Kaslyn approached and stopped a respectful distance from them, waiting to be noticed.

"What is it now?" The mage inquired with exasperated condescension. "Haven't Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?"

"I … simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother…, ser mage," the warrior hesitantly explained in a polite tone, "She desires your presence."

"What her reverence 'desires' is of no concern to me. I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the king's orders, I might add," the mage replied with pointed arrogance.

"Should I have asked her to write a note?" The warrior drolly inquired.

Kaslyn's eyebrows quirked upward slightly.

"Tell her I will _not_ be harassed in this manner," the mage snarled.

The warrior agreed easily, "Yes, I was harassing _you_ by delivering a message."

Kaslyn bit back an amused smile since that comment had snuck through her mind as well.

"Your glibness does you _no_ credit," the mage rejoined sourly.

Kaslyn wasn't so sure about that then her eyes rounded at the blond man's cheeky response.

"Here I thought we were getting along so well," the warrior remarked sarcastically. "I was even going to name one of my children after you … the grumpy one."

Kaslyn snorted. Quickly she covered the inadvertent chuckle with a light cough and clapped one hand to the lower half of her face just for good measure. A sudden, sharp insight cut her mirth short but she quickly dragged her attention back to matters at hand.

"Enough!" The mage declared, cutting one hand dismissively through the air. "I will speak to the woman if I must!" He started towards the ramp, passing the hunter as he did so, and snapped, "Get out of my way, fool!"

Kaslyn bowed her head slightly and wrinkled her nose as he swept past her in a cloud of Orlesian cologne and lyrium. She _really_ shouldn't have laughed but the urge had been so spontaneous and strong, she simply couldn't help it. She peered up at the warrior and saw he was watching the mage leave with a resigned expression on his face.

Turning to her with his fine, hazel eyes beginning to twinkle, the warrior took a couple of steps closer and remarked with a sigh, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."

The Dalish glanced out to the south where the rest of the human camp was before looking back at him, "I know exactly what you mean."

"It's like a party," he continued with a merry grin, "we could all stand in a circle and hold hands. _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about!" His regard grew curious, "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"

"Would that make your day worse?" She couldn't help asking drolly with a tilted smile. He smelled predominantly of grey iron, oiled leather, and apples. Now that he was closer, she could see that, though spotted with a few flecks of rust, his armor was obviously well cared for. He also seemed to bear a strong resemblance to someone else, but she figured that was sheer laziness on her part, and refused the notion that all humans were beginning to look alike to her.

"Hardly," he smirked wryly, "I just like to know my chances of being turned into a toad at any given moment."

Kaslyn grinned and told him, "No worries, then. I'm no mage."

"Less being yelled at for me, then ... though the day is still young," he remarked dryly. He glanced at the sun and added, "Or not." His expression perked up, "Wait, I _do_ know who you are. You're Duncan's new recruit, the Dalish." His smile reappeared, looking somewhat rueful, "I should have recognized you right away. I apologize."

She was startled he would apologize to her for anything, let alone for something as simple as not recognizing her, and responded, "That's all right. No offense taken."

"Good! You didn't exactly catch me at my finest with the mage there," he replied sheepishly.

"How could you recognize me?" Kaslyn wanted to know. People had been identifying her all over camp, it seemed, and she was terribly curious how that could be so.

"Duncan sent word. He spoke quite highly of you." he explained as though surprised she didn't know that. He squared his broad shoulders and went on, "Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Alistair, the new Grey Warden … though I guess you knew that," he added somewhat awkwardly. He quickly covered the inept moment by continuing, "As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."

Recovering from the revelation that Duncan would send favorable news of her, Kaslyn smiled shyly and responded, "Pleased to meet you. My name is Kaslyn of clan Mahariel." She paused for a moment then slanted a curious look at him and inquired, "I can't prepare on my own?"

"I know," he agreed with a grin. "I felt the same way when I did this. Unfortunately, they don't give us much choice."

"What can you tell me about this Joining?" Kaslyn quietly asked.

"Honestly, nothing," he hastily answered. "Try not to worry about it. It will… just distract you." Obviously changing the subject, he remarked, "You know, it just occurred to me that there have never been many _women_ in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?"

Kaslyn glanced aside with a tiny, one-sided smile. She looked back up at the Warden, arching a singular eyebrow at him, and dryly inquired, "You want more women in the Wardens, do you?"

"Would that be so terrible?" He asked with a smirk on his face. Her head tilted slightly and it was apparent when his words registered in his own mind as his eyes widened and he rapidly backpedalled, "Not that I'm some drooling lecher or anything …. Please stop looking at me like that," he quickly muttered with embarrassment.

Kaslyn found herself strangely hard-pressed not to laugh again, but diverted her humor by informing him, "I can handle myself better than most."

"I'm getting that impression," he conceded mischievously. Sobering, he inquired, "So I'm curious: Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?"

"Yes. Just recently," she answered quietly, her oddly high spirits ebbing with the topic change.

"I've only fought them once up close and that was before the battles here started - which Duncan has kept me out of so far. Tell me, did you find them as monstrous as I did?" Alistair asked, completely serious now.

"I don't know," Kaslyn hedged, "How monstrous did you find them?" Were darkspawn the same everywhere? If he was the current 'junior member' and had been kept out of the battles, she wondered, did that mean that she was unlikely to fight the darkspawn, too? What was the point of that?

"I'd read so much," he admitted, "but it just can't prepare you. I don't look forward to seeing them again."

Kaslyn agreed with that sentiment. She had never really read much about darkspawn, and Hahren Paivel had not told many stories describing them, but no amount of words – written or spoken - could adequately convey how horrible the creatures were. She inclined her head and concurred. "They're hideous and dangerous," she looked up at him and finished, "But killable."

Alistair approved with a nod, "You'll be at an advantage then. Most new recruits have never even _seen_ darkspawn." He went on more briskly, "Anyhow, whenever you're ready, let's get back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started."

"What about the other recruits?" Kaslyn asked.

"Daveth and Ser Jory are here in the camp," he answered. "Have you met them?"

"Yes, she replied, "Both of them." Now she understood why those two in particular had mentioned wondering about her and returning to Duncan.

"That makes things easy, then. They'll both be back with Duncan by now," Alistair remarked.

She glanced around quickly. The open courtyard was empty but for them. Beyond where they were, there didn't appear to be anywhere else she hadn't already explored. She had come from the west, to the south was the king's camp, and both the east and the north overlooked the gorge. "Well, then, let's go," she responded.

Alistair politely gestured back to the ramp and said, "If you have any questions, let me know. Otherwise, lead on!"

She started to head to the slope then abruptly reversed back to face him. He nearly collided with her but managed to sidestep at the last second. "I have a question," she told him.

"So I gathered," he replied with a grin, "What is it?"

"Where is Duncan?" Inspiration struck and she hazarded a guess before he could answer, "That blue and grey tent behind the royal enclave?"

He nodded, "That would be it."

She turned and started for the ramp again. In two easy strides, Alistair caught up and matched his steps to hers. Side by side, they walked back towards the royal encampment. Kaslyn tentatively chewed her lip. It really wasn't her business but she was curious about the conversation she had witnessed and so she peeked sideways at the warrior before hesitantly speaking. "Warden Alistair?"

He smiled and responded, "The Grey Wardens aren't a formal lot – at least not in Ferelden. Just 'Alistair' will do fine. What's on your mind, my lady?"

Fairly certain he was teasing her, she absently replied, "That's just 'Kaslyn' to my friends." Her wide eyes darted away, blinking rapidly for a second. Making that comment to a human was possibly the weirdest thing she'd ever said. She quickly shook off the befuddlement, looked at his face, and asked her original question, "That argument I saw … what was it about?"

Alistair grimaced, "With the mage?" At her nod he continued, "The Circle is here at the king's request and the Chantry doesn't like that one bit. They just _love_ letting mages know how unwelcome they are," he added wryly, "Which puts _me_ in a bit of an awkward position. I was once a Templar."

Kaslyn nodded then asked, "What's a Templar?"

"You don't know?" Alistair asked somewhat incredulously. He glanced over and saw her inquisitive expression before he answered, "Quick version, then. The Chantry tries to control mages because they're dangerous, so they keep Templars that train to hunt down and kill apostates." His voice became dry. "That's what I was being trained as when Duncan recruited me six months ago." A hint of sardonic resignation entered his tone as he went on, "I'm sure the revered mother meant it as an insult – sending me as her messenger – and the mage picked _right_ up on that." He regarded her briefly and admitted, "I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we're all to cooperate and get along. Apparently they didn't get the same speech."

Once again, Kaslyn was startled that his final words would echo her own irreverent humor but she said nothing. Privately, she found Alistair's speech intriguing. He had a pleasant tone of voice with a casual accent she had come to associate with common folk combined with hints of sophistication to his phrasing she had only detected with those more educated than most. It made for an interesting combination.

The Warden was hailed by several people as they made their way through the encampment and Alistair acknowledged everyone with bemused impartiality. At one point he glanced at her and asked, "Tell me, Kaslyn, have you … talked to many people here?"

The Dalish shrugged. "A few, I suppose. Why?" He was a full head taller than she was and she had to look up to see his face.

"Oh, nothing," he grinned at her and remarked, "It's just that I never really noticed how friendly everyone in the king's camp could be before now."

Kaslyn shrugged again and thought no more about it.

Passing just beyond a huge bonfire bounded by a circle of stone columns once connected by more soaring arches, they reached the big blue tent. Alistair paused at the opening and courteously indicated she should go first. She cast him a wary glance then cautiously entered. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all made of thick, blue canvas with a public area separated by a partition from a private retreat behind it. A large, free-standing lamp in the center of the space and a couple of oil lamps provided illumination for the otherwise shadowed interior while a few braziers here and there warded off some of the chill. On the left side of the room in front of the entry to the back, four folding chairs surrounded a small table useful for casual activities and meetings. The right side held a large, cluttered desk where Duncan sat with Daveth and Ser Jory standing just before him. The three men turned their gazes to the newcomers and Kaslyn tensed under their notice. Alistair came in right behind her and she had a momentary impulse to bolt. That was a stupid urge, she told herself firmly. None of these men had threatened her, what did she have to fear? She grabbed her nerve, raised her chin, and started forward. Duncan regarded her speculatively, while the other two recruits, smirking and nodding affably, separated to make way for them in front of the desk. She had the oddest notion that they had been talking about her. So what, she firmly told her humming nerves, she had done nothing …, well, nothing _really_ wrong … as far as she knew … and she knew of at least two escape routes that did not involve a guarded gate.

As if sensing her uneasiness, Duncan spoke, "You found Alistair, did you, Kaslyn? Good. I'll assume you've explored the camp to your satisfaction." His dark eyes turned to the Warden on her left and he added, "Assuming, of course, that you're quite finished riling up mages, Alistair?"

"What can I say?" Alistair grinned, "The revered mother ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army."

Duncan arched one, black eyebrow knowingly at the young man, "She forced you to sass the mage, did she?" The young warrior winced with some discomfiture, and the older man's stern expression appeared briefly pained as he gently admonished, "We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We don't need to give anyone more ammunition against us."

"You're right, Duncan, I apologize," Alistair responded earnestly.

Kaslyn was startled by Alistair's reply and glanced at him with renewed interest. It was one thing to admit when misbehavior – even if it was deserved - was inappropriate. To apologize so sincerely about it was something more. Duncan drew her attention again.

"There is not enough daylight left to accomplish anything further today," he said, addressing them all. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands before him. "However, since you're all here now, we can begin your preparations for the Joining ritual. Tomorrow at daybreak I want you all assembled at the fire in front of this tent. Until then you will remain under Alistair's supervision. I expect -."

Suddenly they heard the senior Warden's name bellowed at the entrance of the pavilion. Alistair and the recruits turned to see an arm shoved through the tent flaps followed by an older man with collar-length, greying brown hair, and heavy muttonchops. Stepping inside and glaring around at those gathered there, he fixed his angry gaze briefly on the elf before finally looking to Duncan. Clearly a high-ranking soldier in the king's army, he wore gleaming silver chainmail, a huge greatsword, and a furious scowl as he stalked right up to the desk where the recruits had parted.

The senior Grey Warden stood and acknowledged the visitor. "Is there something I can do for you, Ser Jamerly?"

Glowering at Duncan, the irate knight answered, "I want that knife-eared bitch," and he thrust his right arm back towards Kaslyn whose chin jerked up, "arrested and taken into custody by the Templars for assaulting four of my men with magic!"

The other men were clearly shocked but both Duncan and Kaslyn remained unmoved. She was not altogether surprised there was more to that incident – or that she would be blamed for it. That's what typically happened to the Dalish, after all.

Duncan glanced at the expressionless hunter before looking back at the incensed knight and politely asking, "What exactly happened?"

"Four of my men may be unfit for duty in the next battle thanks to that point-eared freak, Duncan." At the Warden's coolly inquiring expression, he continued, "I don't know how she did it – other than sorcery – but all four of them can barely breathe or see. They'll only repeat some hogwash about 'mistaken identity', but I've learned enough from others who witnessed the situation to know who was responsible." He glared pointedly at the elf again before snarling, "You can't tell me she tangled with four of the king's finest and came out unscathed without using magic! She's an apostate and I want the Templars to deal with her immediately!"

Duncan calmly turned to the Dalish and asked, "Is this true, Kaslyn?"

Kaslyn, angry at the accusations, exaggerations, and slurs, contained her temper as she looked at the Warden and answered evenly, "No, ser."

"What happened?" Duncan pressed.

Keeping her gaze on the Warden, she responded, "I encountered four soldiers who … mistook me for someone else. I convinced them of their mistake but I never used …."

Duncan held up one hand and she fell silent. He looked back at the indignant knight and said, "There we have it, Ser Jamerly. Apparently it was all a misunderstanding…."

"'Misunderstanding', my ass," the knight snapped. He scowled and jabbed his finger at the elder Warden, "You're not seriously going to take the word of a lying knife-ear over the word of the king's men, are you?"

Duncan finally frowned, and everyone there was aware of the temperature in the tent dropping several degrees, as he solemnly informed the fuming man, "I believe in my Wardens, Ser Jamerly. If Kaslyn says it was merely a case of mistaken identity then, given what I know of her character, yes, I believe that is exactly what happened."

Taken aback by the unexpected reaction to his demands, the knight, clearly unwilling to test Duncan further, drew himself up stiffly. He inhaled deeply, obviously regaining control of his temper, and told the Warden, "This isn't over yet, Duncan. The king shall hear of this and - I am certain - he will react appropriately."

"Of that, we can both agree," Duncan replied gravely.

With one final glare at first the Warden and then the elven recruit, Ser Jamerly turned on his heel and left the tent. When he was gone, the quiet was broken by a low whistle. Before Daveth could comment further, however, Duncan addressed them again. "As I was saying, I want the four of you assembled at the bonfire in front of this tent first thing tomorrow morning and ready to begin preparations for the Joining. Until then, you will remain under Alistair's supervision. Daveth, Jory, you are free to go now." He turned to the junior Warden and said, "Alistair, I would like to speak with Kaslyn alone for a few minutes."

Kaslyn reluctantly came to stand before the desk while the other men acknowledged their orders and left. Anticipating recriminations, she shifted her feet and sighed quietly. Duncan resumed his seat behind the desk and regarded her silently. She temporarily distracted herself by noting the many papers scattered across the polished surface, the writing implements, and the glass lamp glowing softly where it perched on one corner. She had not let it show but she had been surprised by Duncan's ready willingness to take her side during that confrontation. Now it occurred to her that he simply preferred to express his displeasure in private and she waited.

Once the others departed, Duncan took his seat and focused his attention back to his newest recruit. He had received a visit from Wynne shortly after the encounter that had prompted Ser Jamerly's recent tirade. The mage had told him everything she had witnessed, including her favorable impressions of the hunter, before she had left for other duties. He valued Wynne's friendship and trusted her insights. He noted that except for a faint bruise, there was no sign of the cut that had previously been reported on Kaslyn's lip. The mage's account had only reinforced his own approval of the Dalish, as had Ser Jory's comments and Daveth's observations. Duncan himself had also appreciated her composed demeanor during Ser Jamerly's abusive diatribe. Examining her reserved expression, he was unsurprised to find that she was obviously braced to receive harsh censure and criticism from him. After all, the Dalish were often the recipients of unfounded accusations and harassment. Mindful of her apprehensions, he asked, "So you've explored the camp and met Alistair and the other recruits. What are your impressions of them?"

Startled, Kaslyn's eyes snapped to his dark face. He wasn't reprimanding her about the knight's complaints. It suddenly occurred to her that Duncan meant what he had said to the man. He actually believed her and she wasn't facing discipline after all. Recognizing his firm support of her was genuine abruptly released a knot of tension she was unaware of even carrying and she realized she could rely on the Warden to come to her aid as her Keeper would. She wasn't all alone here. Of course, like Keeper Marethari, remaining worthy of Duncan's confidence would be the real work. Rapidly turning her attention to his unexpected question, she was thoughtful for a bit then replied, "Ser Jory seems a little … tightly strung and …," she hesitated but Duncan encouraged her to speak so she continued, "maybe a little naïve about darkspawn?" He nodded and she went on, "Daveth is more easy-going but he seems a little skittish about just being here." She shrugged her shoulders, "I only just met them, though, and I could be wrong."

Her reaction confirmed Duncan's suspicions. Despite travelling together, she had not allowed herself to truly trust him until he had demonstrated his conviction in her was reliable and he would not castigate her over trivial matters. Pleased to see her confidence had grown further, he inquired, "And what of Alistair?"

She shrugged again, looking down, and murmured quietly, "He … made me laugh." She peered at him, saw his dark eyes watching her amenably, and softly admitted, "I … haven't laughed since before … well, in a long time, I guess..." Her tone grew stronger as she continued, "He seems like a good-natured, steady sort of man." She twitched her shoulders, "I guess we'll see how everything goes when the time comes. Duncan," she asked suddenly, "will I be facing any darkspawn here? Alistair said something about being kept out of the fighting …?"

The Warden smiled and replied, "All in good time, Kaslyn. Focus on the Joining first, and then we can make further plans. To that end, you should eat and get some rest tonight." His smile widened at her wry smirk and soft, exasperated sigh. "Thank you for your candor. Now if you will excuse me while I speak with Alistair…?" He courteously rose to his feet again.

Kaslyn nodded and left. She paused at the entrance of the tent and turned back towards the Warden. "Duncan," she said quietly, "Ma ser – I mean, thank you… for…." He held up a hand and she stopped.

"It's all right, Kaslyn. I understand."

She smiled a little, nodded once, and exited the tent.

The Dalish came out of the blue tent without a whisper of sound. Alistair had already sent the other men off to the chow-line after asking them to come back to the tent by nightfall. He had a good idea what was coming for tomorrow and wanted everyone as ready as possible. He happened to be glancing at the entrance, waiting for his turn to talk with Duncan, or else he would have jumped out of his skin at her appearance. The elf moved as quietly as she spoke. Kaslyn told him Duncan was expecting him and he politely excused himself to duck back inside. Approaching the desk where the older Warden sat briskly writing, Alistair stopped close by and waited patiently to be noticed.

Duncan finished and set the paper aside before looking up at him with a smile, "I suppose you're wondering what Ser Jamerly's visit was all about."

Alistair grinned and replied, "Well, it's not every day a commander storms into another camp, personally demanding the arrest of someone else's newest recruit. What happened, Duncan?"

The older Warden sighed, "I understand it was much as Kaslyn said. Four of Ser Jamerly's men apparently decided that she must belong to someone and were evidently intent on using her for their own purposes." He saw Alistair's expression darken and appreciated how the young man felt which was why he understood when his next words brought a surprised grin. "A broken nose apiece quickly taught them the folly of making such assumptions about any woman. I was informed that the confrontation was brief and with a minimum of fuss – at least on Kaslyn's part – and no weapons or magic involved." He eyed the young man and asked, "What's your impression of the new recruits, Alistair – now that you've had a chance to meet them all? What do you think of Ser Jory?"

"The knight," the younger Warden approved, "seems like a solid fellow."

Duncan nodded. He had deliberately started with the knight, knowing that Jory's background would likely compel Alistair to identify with him the most. He then asked, "What about Daveth?"

"The conscripted cut-purse," Alistair grimaced slightly in distaste, "I have to admit, Duncan, I'm not all that sure what you see in him to be honest."

"Give it some time," the older Warden said with a smile, "He might surprise you. It takes an unusual combination of traits to be a Grey Warden, after all." He paused for a beat then asked, "And what about Kaslyn?"

"She's apparently already faced darkspawn and if she can manage four of Jamerly's thugs at once, I suppose she can handle herself," he looked at Duncan uncertainly. At the older Warden's encouraging expression, he blurted out, "It's just … she's so … small!"

"Don't let her size fool you, Alistair," Duncan immediately warned him, "She is a skilled Dalish hunter and every bit as formidable as rumor has them. You will see for yourself tomorrow. Is there anything else?"

"Well, on a slightly different note," and Alistair grinned, "she must have visited everybody here because I never got half so much notice just crossing camp before she arrived!"

Duncan smiled and pointed out, "That is one of the qualities that makes her unique. Her Keeper told me Kaslyn was unusual amongst the Dalish for her willingness to interact with others."

Alistair acknowledged his understanding. "So will you be joining us for supper tonight, Duncan? I'm sure you have lots of new stories – not to mention the one about finding Dalish elves."

"I'm sorry, Alistair," the older Warden replied regretfully, "I've already been invited to dine with Cailan this evening."

The younger Warden nodded, mildly disappointed. He was curious about his friend's recent travels, and was looking forward to hearing about his latest adventures, but not enough to babysit the king. "Perhaps later, then," he responded easily. Duncan thanked him for his perspective then sent him on his way.

Alistair left the tent and immediately spotted Kaslyn lingering near the fire. He smiled when she caught sight of him and gestured for her to accompany him. When she hesitated and inquired about Duncan, Alistair explained the senior Warden's alternate plans and again invited her to join him. They retraced their steps northwards, trailing a number of soldiers drifting in the same direction, and eventually caught up to Daveth and Ser Jory already in the queue.

Kaslyn was uncertain what to expect and followed the lead of the people lined up in front of her. At the nearest end of the long table were several stacks of metal plates and she curiously took one as each of the soldiers ahead of her did. The 'plate' was more like a broad, shallow dish but she figured the higher edges were to keep food from sloshing about. Peering around the other warriors, she saw the elves behind the expansive table dumping large spoons full of what was presumably stew into the plates held in front of them. Overseeing the servants was another human man in plain clothes. As Kaslyn gradually approached this strange-smelling fare, he glanced at her oddly and when she presented her plate, he promptly dumped a small pail into it. Scraps of fatty gristle, rotten vegetables, and crusts of scorched bread, all obviously headed for the trash or the compost heap, poured into her dish. The man then cleared his nasal passages with a mighty snort before spitting the contents into the dish, and laughed, "There you go, knife-ears! With extra 'gravy'! Enjoy!"

Kaslyn was too revolted and incensed to notice the nauseated reactions of those around her. Her furious eyes snapped up, and the cook, caught in her gaze, froze in place. The amused expression slowly slid off of his face. Without breaking that icy stare or uttering a sound, she stiffly extended the dish straight back towards him. Both hands on either side of the plate, her palms and fingers abruptly flicked open wide and the plate dropped. The rim of it tipped the edge of the table and flipped it contents-side-down to land in his shoes. Deliberately drawing her fists to her sides and maintaining her stony silence, she took two steps back from the table before turning on her heel and striding away.

Alistair was angrily appalled and from the sound of the heated rumbling around him, he was not the only one. Blinking rapidly, the cook was still recovering from the elf's unexpected glare. Before the Warden could act, or the cook could respond to the mutterings around him, a man and a woman roughly grabbed him by each shoulder and yanked him away from the serving line. Alistair had barely an instant to notice those dragging the man elsewhere were accompanied by two, large mabari. He looked around quickly but saw no sign of Kaslyn anywhere. To his surprised gratitude, a second plate was rapidly passed up to him and both dishes were filled with extra servings of stew and bread. Balancing both plates in one hand, he scooped up two sets of eating utensils and a pair of tankards at the end of the line. He directed the waiting recruits to make their way to an empty table near the edge of the crowd, and kept a watch out while they all ate their dinner, but there was no sign of the Dalish. As they finished, however, many people came by to express their condemnation of the shameful incident and to let the Warden know that such repulsive behavior was in no way condoned. He was especially astonished when the commander of the Ash Warriors himself found them and assured him that a lesson on proper respect had been thoroughly administered. Unsure of how else to respond, Alistair thanked the grim man. Eventually, the young Warden encouraged Daveth and Ser Jory to their own pursuits, reminding them to return by nightfall to the tent they all shared. Standing, Alistair frowned, uncertain of what to do. Duncan had put him in charge of the recruits and he had already misplaced one of them. As though summoned by his thoughts, the elder Warden arrived at the table.

"Ah, Alistair, I was hoping to find you …," the older man paused, and then asked, "What's wrong?"

Alistair winced. "Something … occurred in the dinner line, Duncan." He quickly explained what happened, ending with, "Kaslyn left and hasn't come back."

"I see," Duncan murmured. He looked around the busy encampment then noted the extra, untouched food at the table. "I would appreciate it, Alistair, if you would find her and, if possible, convince her to eat something. She tends to disregard her health." He saw the younger man's look of confusion and asked, "You hadn't noticed?"

Alistair had not heard Duncan speak with such concern over any of his other recruits and was puzzled. At the prompting question, he kicked his brain into a review of his interaction with the Dalish. He knew Duncan wasn't talking about Kaslyn being an elf; that was too obvious. He had encountered other elves previously but he had never met one with as much poise as the Dalish. He also knew the older Warden wasn't referring to her being a pretty girl either; even if she was the first female recruit he had ever seen the older Warden bring back. An image of her appeared in his mind and as it did so, an unsettled feeling surfaced in his memories. He had largely ignored it; he had only been a Grey Warden for a short time and while he could vaguely sense the other Wardens in the camp further west, he had learned to focus past the incessant, whispering tug in his blood to concentrate on whatever his business at hand was. He felt an echoing sort of tingling itch whenever he passed near the infirmary and - now that Duncan had subtly pointed it out - when he had been around the Dalish, he realized. "Maker's blood," he breathed, his wide eyes darting back to the older Warden's level, black gaze, "She's tainted."

Duncan nodded once, "She needs to keep up her strength and she needs to rest as much as possible before the Joining."

Considering his own reaction to her earlier proximity, the young Warden unconsciously rubbed at his chest and quietly asked, "How is she still on her feet? I've seen men in the infirmary - bedridden or worse - with half the amount of taint in them…." In fact, they had been required to kill a few soldiers with less taint in order to alleviate their suffering and mercifully prevent them from becoming ghouls. No wonder Duncan was impressed. He was, too.

"I believe that part of it is her Keeper's doing. The Dalish still practice magic that was old before the Circle was formed." The older Warden noticed the expression of surprised interest that came over his young friend's face, and continued. "Part of it is her own willful stubbornness, I suspect." He rested a hand on Alistair's shoulder and added, "Please, do what you can to help Kaslyn, but…," and he paused significantly until the young man met his gaze again. "Remember this: she is a proud Dalish hunter who walked away from the only family she has ever known with her head held high. She will not tolerate your pity or your charity."

"Maybe I'm not the best one to go after her," Alistair murmured, shrugging uneasily, "I'm not exactly … the most diplomatic person here."

Duncan disagreed, "I believe you may be exactly the sort of person she needs right now." At the young warrior's blatantly skeptical look, he chuckled, "She's only year or two younger than you are - the youngest hunter of her clan, in fact. Just be yourself, Alistair. I think she will appreciate that most of all."

The junior Warden sighed at the senior, "All right, Duncan. I really doubt someone like her needs anything from a tongue-tied idiot like me, but I suppose even I can't make the situation any worse."

Duncan's features sobered again, "Right now, please find Kaslyn and persuade her to eat and rest. I've arranged for an extra bed to be placed in our tent for her tonight."

Alistair winced, "It'll sure be crowded with all five of us – even in a tent as big as that."

"Maker willing, it will be as crowded tomorrow night," the elder Warden sighed. He already doubted that it would be, but perhaps he would be surprised.

"I sure hope so, too," Alistair concurred with his friend. He picked up their plates and turned to carry out his orders. Dropping the dishes in the dirty stacks, he politely asked one of the serving women if she would please make up a fresh plate to be taken to someone elsewhere. The dark-haired elf looked at him with some anxiety but bobbed her head and scurried off to fulfill his request. Once again he was struck by the differences between the king's docile servants and the self-assured Dalish. The woman returned quickly with a covered plate and carefully handed it to him. After he thanked her, and made certain this generous serving had not been tampered with, he collected another fresh tankard and went to find the missing recruit.

At first he questioned a few of the soldiers standing guard around the camp but many of them had come on duty right after their meal and had not noticed Kaslyn. Eventually the guard at the eastern entryway agreed she had been through there. "She was headed directly across the bridge with purpose, ser." He paused then added, "I don't mean to speak out of turn, Warden, but I hope everything's all right."

Alistair thanked the man and started down the ramp onto the span. He did not like the sound of that. He didn't know what he would do if Kaslyn had decided to leave the camp entirely. He also wasn't completely certain what Duncan's reaction would be either – other than it would not likely be good. Surely she hadn't left, Alistair thought. Surely, he fervently hoped, she trusted him - or at least Duncan, since she had travelled with him - enough to stay. Crossing the bridge, he was soon standing in the eastern section of the ruin. He searched carefully with his eyes but saw no sign of the Dalish. On a dreaded chance, he apprehensively checked with the guard at the front gate and was quickly relieved of his worst fear.

"Aye, Warden, I saw the lass," the man assured. "Couldn't help but notice that fiery hair of hers. I saw her come off the bridge and head that way." He gestured towards the southeastern edge of the ruin that overlooked the Wilds.

Alistair thanked the guard and continued on in the direction indicated. Reaching the eastern courtyard, he was wryly beginning to wonder if Kaslyn had somehow jumped into the forest below when he felt the faintest trace of a tickle begin in his chest and finally caught a spark of red flickering in the evening light. He hesitated when he spotted her tiny, crouched form, motionless except for a few curls of her hair teased by the light wind. Facing outward into the breeze from the forest, she was sitting practically on top of her heels with her knees drawn up and her forehead resting atop her crossed arms. He had never seen anyone become so small – or look so dejected. She had curled up atop one of the capstones of a supporting pillar at the farthest edge of the stone platform just past where the outermost wall had collapsed. She had certainly found the point furthest away from camp without actually leaving it, he reflected, noting that the guard who was usually stationed here had kindly shifted his position to the next chunk of terrace to give her some privacy. Alistair deliberated for a minute, racking his brain for anything close to an appropriate thing to say. Duncan had just told him that she had left everything she knew a few days ago; the king's camp must be a strange and lonely place for her. A feeling of sympathy stole over him. He might not know what it was like being a wilder elf surrounded by humans, but he knew intimately what it was to feel different from everyone else and what being homesick was like. Uncertain of what to say, he remembered the still-hot plate in his hand and approached. Stealth had never been one of his talents and he figured she probably heard him coming – at least as far back as the bridge – so he made no secret of his presence. He cleared his throat, still indecisive how to begin, and saw one of her pointed ears actually twitch as she raised her head slightly. He could not see her expression but he could sense her unhappiness in her demeanor. Remembering Duncan's suggestion to be himself, he thought for a moment then simply admitted, "I'm surprised you stayed …."

She sighed deeply before she responded. "Duncan asked that I not leave the camp 'for the time being'." Her shoulders barely twitched, "I don't know when 'the time being' is, but I agreed I would … trust him."

"I'd hoped that might be the case. I'm glad," Alistair murmured. He was startled by the words but realized he meant them. He saw her head lift the rest of the way up and she looked at him over her shoulder with a puzzled expression on her face as if gauging his sincerity.

Alistair raised the plate and mug and said, "I brought you something to eat." She gestured towards the wall next to her where the shadow hid a covered dish he hadn't even noticed. "Ah, I see you already found something. May I?" he asked, indicating that he wanted to take a look underneath the lid.

Kaslyn shrugged one shoulder apathetically. An earlier sniff through the tiny holes had suggested something much better than garbage but she was too disgusted, and too miserable right now to care what was there. Her eyes stung and her gut felt like it contained a lump of iron that threatened to sink her all the way to the valley floor below but she had not cried. Dawdling outside of Duncan's tent earlier, she had debated about daring the camp food or munching her own rations in private. She'd already had just about enough of this odd society for a while and had been contemplating some alone time when Alistair had reappeared and invited her to accompany him. The uncouth display in the serving line had pushed her just that much too far, and she abruptly decided she was done making the effort to get along here. It had been all she could do not to leap across that table and beat the man senseless but she had exercised massive restraint and walked away. She wanted to leave. She wanted nothing more than to escape this strange place and these stranger people; to go home where a teasing Tamlen would sarcastically complain about her wandering off without him, where Ashalle would scold her for being late to supper yet again, where she could regale Hahren Paivel with an adventure successfully concluded … but Tamlen was gone and she would never see him, or likely their tribe, ever again. She could conceivably find and join another Dalish clan but it wouldn't be the same and she had no right to expose them to the taint she carried. She had accepted Duncan's offer to become part of his order and that included following his lead. He had asked her to stay in the camp and she would obey as if Keeper Marethari requested it of her. The wind had shifted over the course of the afternoon and now blew in from the southern Wilds instead of from the north, so she had gotten as far away from the humans as she could and faced into the breeze to at least pretend she was free of them all. Distraction from her unhappy thoughts had finally come when she caught the faint sound of Alistair's casually refined voice talking with the gate guard and heard the tread of his heavy boots drawing close. There was something vaguely ironic about being found by the junior Warden, her humor pointed out but refused to clarify. Now she ran her hand up through her unruly forelocks and watched him.

Alistair knelt and carefully set the tankard and dish on the ground nearby before shaking out his hand. He had taken off his leather gloves to eat his own meal and forgotten to put them back on. While they were fingerless, they would have at least provided some protection between his palm and the hot bottom of the plate he had brought. Hesitantly he raised the lid of the dish she had placed next to the wall and out of the wind. His eyes widened as he pulled the cover all the way off and he whistled. There were fine slices of fowl, sautéed vegetables, and thick slices of fresh bread. "This must have come from King Cailan's personal cook," he said. "This is a lot better than what the rest of us poor slobs got." He motioned at it with the hand still holding the lid, "How'd you manage to get such prime servings? If you don't mind me asking," he hastily added.

Kaslyn shrugged again. Now that the top was off and she could get a better sense of the aromas, she felt her stomach perk up inquisitively. She twisted around in place to face him, dividing a glance between the plate and the Warden, and finally answered, "I met some of the elves that work for the king earlier. One of them caught me as I was leaving." She paused then admitted, "Maybe I _did_ manage to make some friends here."

"I'll say!" Alistair's eyes sparkled with laughter. She gave him a startled, curious look and he said, "Even the Ash Warriors were … less than pleased with that - how did their leader put it…? Oh, yes, with that 'disgusting and dishonorable display'." Still grinning, he shook his head, "I wouldn't care to be in that guy's socks after they finished their little 'talk' with him." Quickly sobering, he quietly remarked, "A lot of other people weren't happy about that insult either. They considered it an offense to you, to the Grey Wardens, and to the king's soldiers, as well."

Kaslyn glanced away briefly, feeling a little confused and discomfited. She uncurled from her position then gazed back at him and frowned faintly, "I thought the Ash Warriors were away hunting or scouting the horde?"

Alistair shook his head. "Teyrn Loghain changed the orders again at the last minute, as I understand it. He's sending them out tomorrow." Noticing her changing posture, he picked the plate up and held it out to her.

"Aerik is loving that," she murmured wryly. Taking off her gloves to stuff them into a pouch, she gestured with her chin at the covered plate he had brought and asked, "What's in there?"

He regarded the other dish and said, "Oh, that's just what the rest of us got. Just stew," he added. "Trust me, yours is much better." He paused then asked, "Who's Aerik?"

Kaslyn replied indifferently, "The leader of the Ash Warriors." She looked at him curiously as she accepted the dinner from him.

"Well," Alistair hedged, interpreting her unspoken question, "It's not like I know the name of every individual in the king's army." He saw one of her eyebrows arch slightly higher than the other and quickly admitted, "Okay, so, no, he didn't tell me his name – or anyone else for that matter-! He hates anyone who's not an Ash Warrior -! Are you going to eat that or not?" Noting her leather kilt did not cover the lower portion of her legs, he warned, "Careful, the bottom's still pretty hot."

Using her toes to flip the discarded lid into the air, she deftly caught it, turned it upside-down, and slid the warm dish into it before setting it on her knees. She smiled a little at his snort, accepted the utensils he presented next, and then, glancing over the generous contents of the plate, said, "This is too much just for me. Do you want some?"

Alistair looked between her and the dinner. He had been too distracted about Kaslyn's disappearance, and Duncan's request, to go back for seconds as he usually did at meals. He could always eat, it seemed, and it did smell really good. He reminded himself that he was a gentleman, however, and he had brought seconds in a way. "Tell you what," he replied, "Eat what you want and I might finish off whatever's left, but take your time. There's no rush. I'll join you with the stew so you won't have to eat alone." He remembered the tankard he also brought and moved it closer. "You can wash it down with this."

She picked up the container and took a cautious sniff of the contents. Her nose twitched and she took a hesitant drink – not a mere sip, he noted. She made a face, swallowed, and asked, "What _is_ that?"

"It's ale," he answered with a grin, trying not to laugh at her expense. "Granted, it's cheap ale…. It's an acquired taste for some."

Licking her lips, she said, "I don't believe I care to acquire that." Her eyes cut to his face and a smile twitched one corner of her mouth as she told him, "You can laugh. I'm pretty sure that was at least somewhat funny."

He chuckled at her dry tone. A little sheepishly, he asked, "Do you _have_ to sit so close to the edge there?"

She glanced around at her location and shrugged, but he was relieved to see her scoot forward onto the ground and sit against the inside of what remained of the eastern wall. With her knees atop her feet in a crossed-leg position, she settled the plate in her lap. Taking a neighboring seat, Alistair picked up his own dish. She ate slowly at first but he could tell that the more she put away, the better she started feeling. She managed to clear a good two thirds of her dinner, washing it down with swallows from her waterskin, before she finally sighed and passed the leftovers in his direction. After finishing off the second generous portion of stew, he still had room enough to clean the third plate, but by then, even he had to admit he was full. Leaning back together against the wall behind them in the lengthening shadows of the setting sun, Alistair knew they needed to return soon to the tent they shared with Duncan and the others. Before he could say anything, however, he was startled by the soft sound of her voice. Now that they were away from all the other camp noise, he noticed that she tended to speak quietly, as though she were sharing secrets.

"Alistair?"

"Yes?"

"Tell me a little about yourself," Kaslyn figured if she was going to be travelling with the man who was apprenticed to Duncan, she might as well know more about him than his name.

He winced uncomfortably and instead playfully answered, "You first. Did you … want to become a Grey Warden?" He had never heard of a Dalish leaving their clan and was curious if she would share her story with him.

She frowned a little uneasily. She didn't start this conversation to talk about herself. She knew it was probably childish of her, but didn't really care, when she responded, "I asked you first."

Alistair hid a smirk. Apparently she was as eager to talk about personal matters as he was. He realized that he might have suppressed the smile on his face, but it was still clearly in his voice as he smugly pointed out, "You asked in general. I'm asking in particular."

She sneered with lighthearted sarcasm, silently mocking his reply, and briefly bit her lip before finally admitting, "I really hadn't thought about it." She quickly explained, "I mean, I always thought I'd be a hunter for my clan. I never even considered that … the subject would come up, let alone that such an offer would be made to me …." She was quiet for a moment then tilted her head a little and added, "But when … Duncan invited me …, I accepted, so I suppose I did want to become a Grey Warden." Considering the alternative if Duncan's cure didn't work … yes, she was quite willing to join the order but she kept that to herself. "I'm also fulfilling my clan's pledge to aid the Grey Wardens during the Blight."

Alistair nodded. Now that he was aware of her illness, he knew there was much more to her story but he respected her reticence. Still, she had answered him and he felt he should rise to the occasion. "I was conscripted. Not that I didn't want to join," he hastily assured her. "I was training as a Templar for the Chantry before Duncan recruited me. That was … about six months ago."

She looked at him sideways through her shaggy bangs with her head cocked, "So you're not happy in the Grey Wardens?"

He chuckled, "Far from it. I never wanted to be a Templar anyway."

"So? Why does that matter?" Kaslyn inquired. "I mean, why did Duncan have to conscript you from the Chantry if you didn't want to train there anyway?"

Alistair glanced left, saw that her curiosity was unfeigned and not mere politeness, and explained, "Usually that's not something you're allowed to stop. The Chantry spends a lot of time training you to fight mages. They don't like to give you up." He found himself admitting, "But joining the Chantry wasn't _my_ idea. My fate was decided for me long before that." Startled by the bitterness shading his voice, he attempted to resume his tale, "Duncan saw I wasn't happy and figured my training against mages could double for fighting darkspawn. Now, here I stand, a proud Grey Warden." Still in some awe of his friend, he softly added, "The Grand Cleric wouldn't have let me go if Duncan never forced the issue. I'll always be grateful to him."

It wasn't that she was unable to understand the sentiment but Kaslyn arched an eyebrow at him, "You didn't want to join the Chantry?"

Alistair shrugged and answered, "It just … wasn't for me. I believe in the Maker well enough, but I never wanted to devote my _life_ to the Chantry."

Kaslyn nodded, completely comprehending that reason for more than the obvious. It was the same sort of rationale that had discouraged her from choosing which vallaslin to wear. She believed in her gods but was not especially faithful to any one in particular so she had been unable to decide which tattoo would be most appropriate for her to declare devotion – not that she had to be exclusive afterwards, but still …. Noting a certain tone in Alistair's voice when he mentioned the older Warden, she said, "You speak fondly of Duncan."

"I spent years in that chantry hopelessly resigned to my fate. Duncan was the first person who cared what _I_ wanted," he responded warmly. "He risked a lot of trouble with the Grand Cleric to help me." He waited somewhat warily. Although he had tried to keep his voice neutral, he was expecting her to make fun of the emotional response that happened whenever he spoke of Duncan rescuing him from the Chantry. He was a bit startled when he glanced at her to see an understanding expression on her profile.

"Tell me about Duncan," she murmured.

"Duncan is the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden … which he would say doesn't mean much, as there aren't many of us here. Yet." He felt a small smile touch his own features as he went on, "Beyond that, he's a good man, a good judge of character. I owe him a lot." He eyed the Dalish sitting next to him and asked, "What about you? What do you think of him?"

Staring at the ground ahead of them, Kaslyn considered her experiences with the elder Warden, and then replied, "He seems like a kind man, if firm." Her mouth turned up in a tiny, wry smile when she added that last bit. Hahren Paivel had called her a handful on more than one occasion and Tamlen had teased she could be ridiculously stubborn.

"Fair enough," Alistair answered, still watching her. "He's done the best he can with what little he has … and that includes me, I guess." He felt his own face mirror hers, and suddenly felt he might've understood what had prompted her change of expression, even if he didn't know the exact cause. "You want to ask me something else?"

Kaslyn became thoughtful as she tried to organize her questions. She had initially sat in a crossed-legged position to eat her dinner. Now she pulled her legs up before her modestly and flattened her feet together on the stone with her arms resting casually atop her bent knees. Finally she said, "This Blight Duncan mentioned…."

"Of course," Alistair nodded. That was the reason they were all there, after all.

"So…, what is a Blight? Where do darkspawn come from?" Might as well start at the beginning, she figured.

One side of Alistair's mouth turned up irreverently as he countered, "You want the Chantry's version or the truth?"

This time Kaslyn's smile mimicked his and she sweetly inquired, "They aren't the same thing?"

Alistair chuckled, "They seldom are."

Her smile widened at his laughter, "Give me the truth, then." She was actually relieved he had taken no offense to the manner of her response, but then he had admitted that his faith was about as casual as hers.

"The truth is, we don't really know," he replied. "They come up from the ground and that's as far as we've gotten."

Kaslyn blinked a few times. That was it? She bobbed her head once, filing the information away with her own observations about the monsters, before she asked, "What's the Chantry's version?"

"According to the Chant of Light, the Maker imprisoned the Old Gods underground long ago as punishment for tricking mankind into worshipping them," Alistair explained. "The Old Gods still whispered to some men, and taught them magic. These men became the magisters of the Tevinter Empire." As he continued, his voice became more impersonal and he noticed himself using the lofty tones and sweeping phrases so often preached at him, "The magisters used their gift to enter the Golden City, tainting it and themselves. They were cast out by the Maker, and became the first darkspawn." He saw her watching him intently. "They fled underground, bringing their taint to their gods. The tainted Old Gods were the Archdemons, who rose from their prisons and led the darkspawn against the world."

"So that was the first Blight?" Kaslyn asked.

Alistair agreed, "Yes, and it nearly wiped us out. When defeated, the darkspawn flee back underground and seek out another Old God to taint, thus bringing another Blight."

Kaslyn frowned, "Why not kill the darkspawn when they're underground?"

"They've controlled the Deep Roads ever since they defeated the dwarven kingdoms," he replied, "Even if we invaded, we can only chase them so far."

Kaslyn nodded. Wondering if it was merely Chantry rhetoric, she inquired, "What is an Archdemon exactly?"

"The Old Gods were dragons, so the stories say. Big ones. Intelligent, even," the Warden answered. She turned to look at him with russet eyebrows arcing over big, blue eyes. "The Tevinter Empire had big statues of them. Each dragon had a name and a place in the cosmos …. It's all …very intricate," he abbreviated before summing up, "The Archdemons may not be the Old Gods, but they're definitely dragons."

Great; Big, intelligent dragons; Terrific, she thought acerbically. She logically followed up with, "So where is the Archdemon for this Blight?"

"We …haven't seen it yet. People are beginning to think this is just an unusually large darkspawn raid without an Archdemon to unify them," Alistair explained, shaking his head. His voice became mildly derisive, "But seriously …The Archdemon could be in the Wilds, or underground. It could be hiding. Just because it hasn't shown itself doesn't mean it isn't out there."

Kaslyn agreed and thoughtfully resumed contemplating the ruin before them. The Wardens held that it was a Blight. Duncan not only believed but had convinced Keeper Marethari – if she wasn't already aware of it. Alistair obviously believed. King Cailan had expressed doubt, as had many of the soldiers here, so Kaslyn glanced at the Warden next to her and wondered, "Why are some people so skeptical?"

He smirked and revealed, "The Grey Wardens killed so many darkspawn by the end of the last Blight people decided they were gone for good."

Kaslyn snorted softly through her nose at what sounded like wishful thinking. It occurred to her that Alistair might be getting tired of her inquiries and she hesitantly admitted, "I have other questions about the Blight."

"Of course," he responded easily. Alistair was impressed with her investigation. He had read a great deal about the Grey Wardens, and their primary foes, and it was gratifying for him to have such an appreciative audience.

He didn't sound exasperated with her, she thought, and decided to continue. "How do Grey Wardens defeat Blights?"

"We chop off the snake's head. It's the only way," Alistair promptly replied. "According to texts, the most famous Grey Warden leader, Garahel - who was also elven by the way, killed the Archdemon Andoral in personal combat at the Battle of Ayesleigh to end the last Blight four hundred years ago." He added, "Without the Archdemon to command them, the darkspawn flee back underground."

"How did anyone even know about this Blight?" Kaslyn asked.

"The Grey Wardens keep watch," Alistair answered. "We … feel the darkspawn when they come. You'll understand after the Joining, if you s- … Well, you'll … understand." he hastily interrupted himself. As though the slip never happened, he continued wryly, "Not to mention people start to notice when darkspawn pour out of the Wilds and taint everything around them. Just a guess." Relieved to see a smile on her face at his quip, he mentally held his breath and hoped she had made nothing of the abrupt turn in his explanation.

Kaslyn had heard what he didn't say. She eyed the far ruined wall before her, nibbling her lower lip, and tapping her toes. She already knew from Duncan that the Joining was dangerous and, since no one wanted to talk about it, logically, that could only mean one thing. So, she thought, it's a matter of degrees at this point. Her options were coming down to the taint already in her system, the possible cure of the Joining ritual, or the darkspawn she might or might not be asked to face. Thinking of which, she asked, "Just how many darkspawn are out there?"

"Thousands?" he responded with a sigh. He saw her turn wide eyes on him again. "Tens of thousands? They've had centuries to build up their numbers."

She blinked a few times, absorbing this information. Searching his face, she saw he wasn't joking with her about the darkspawn numbers. She turned her head and looked out into the darkening wilderness below them.

"You want to ask me about something else?" Alistair asked after a bit. He wasn't sure what else she might want to know, but was a little reluctant to end their otherwise pleasant conversation on such a grim note. He noticed her expression lighten.

"The Grey Wardens," Kaslyn remarked, turning her gaze back to him. She straightened her left leg out before her and rested her hand on her thigh, leaving her elbow atop the knee that was still bent.

Alistair grinned and drolly replied, "So I imagine. What would you like to know?"

Kaslyn considered what lore she knew and finally confessed, "I'm not sure I know anything about the Grey Wardens."

The Warden nodded and said, "Well, let's see…. Surely you've heard of Weisshaupt Fortress? The great aerie carved into the white cliffs far off in the Anderfels? That's where the Grey Wardens once kept their griffons." He saw her tilt her head inquisitively and went on, "The griffons died out, however, and our numbers have dwindled since the last Blight. There's only a handful left in Ferelden; a few more in other nations."

"How many is 'a handful'?" Kaslyn asked.

Alistair shrugged, "It's estimated there are over a thousand Grey Wardens in the Anderfels, several hundred in Orlais, and around two dozen here in Ferelden." At her curious frown he explained, "The Wardens were banished from Ferelden a couple centuries ago. They were only allowed back into the country around twenty years since by King Maric."

That was a marginally greater number than the 'handful' she had thought, Kaslyn mused, but somewhat alarming in contrast to the number of Grey Wardens in other places. She chewed her lower lip for a moment. Thinking over what he had told her so far, she recalled the trouble he had mentioned in his conscription, "So the Grey Wardens have the right to recruit anyone?"

"King Maric, Cailan's father, reaffirmed the power the Grey Wardens were given during the Blights," Alistair agreed. "In practice we can't conscript too often without hurting our cause. We were exiled from Ferelden once … best not to let that happen again."

Kaslyn could understand that reasoning. She slid her other foot out next to the first and rested her hands in her lap before she turned her head to look at the Warden. "What makes you all so special?"

Alistair's head came up. "The Grey Wardens are warriors without equal. Darkspawn threatened to destroy the world four times over. Each time the Grey Wardens led mankind to victory," he told her proudly. "Nobody knows more about darkspawn and nobody is better equipped to deal with them…. You'll see, trust me," he added with a reassuring smile.

Kaslyn felt her mouth twitch in a grin prompted by his handsome expression, and hid it by turning her head. Her fingers idly played with the hem of her leather kilt and she wondered again why Duncan thought her worthy to be a member of an order of 'warriors without equal'. She could usually hold her own but knew she hadn't been the best fighter in her clan. 'Promising', she had been called. She watched her toes wiggle in her soft boots for a bit, then glanced at him sideways through her bangs and asked quizzically, "So… they're knights? Heroes?"

Somewhat surprised by the question and her shrewd countenance, his cheeks flushed. Modestly he replied, "I … don't know if I'd go _that_ far. Duncan says the Grey Wardens do 'whatever is necessary' to protect mankind from darkspawn." He sighed and his high color subsided as he quietly admitted, "That means some pretty extreme things. Whatever it takes to bring victory."

Kaslyn nodded, thinking she could appreciate what that meant. Her gaze turned toward where the rest of the king's camp was and she asked, "Where are all the other Grey Wardens now?"

Alistair gestured westward. "The others are camped with the king's soldiers in the valley. The king's given us a position of honor at the vanguard, despite our small numbers." His tone of voice grew softer, "I think Cailan is actually excited to go into battle with us. Maybe he thinks that's what his father would've done." He glanced at her and saw her disturbed expression as she bobbed her head quickly at his last statement. This unexpectedly comical agreement caused him an amused grin. He continued more seriously, "I'll tell you, it's Teyrn Loghain we should be looking to win this upcoming battle, not the king." He grimaced mildly and remarked, "Cailan just wants his place in history. The teyrn is planning the strategy." Realizing that what he said might be taken adversely, he quickly averred, "Errr…, that's my opinion, anyway. I guess I should be thankful the king favors us Grey Wardens…, but I know who's keeping a lid on the pot," he added much more quietly.

Kaslyn peered at him. "What are the chances of success?"

"I'm sure Teyrn Loghain has the battle planned to the last detail," Alistair declared stoutly, and then he was forced to admit, "Still … no Blight has ever been defeated with so little cost."

"What if we fail?" she prompted.

The Warden nodded, acknowledging the possibility. "If we don't break the horde here, Duncan says it will spread until it engulfs all of Ferelden. Then it will take an alliance of _nations_ to fight it." He raised his eyebrows as he met her gaze and emphasized, "Which would be _bad_. Neither the king nor the teyrn really seems to believe this is a real Blight, however."

Kaslyn was all too aware of that after her introduction to the king. Still, a ruined fortress on the edge of a wilderness seemed an odd bastion, even if it was at the narrowest point of a canyon. "Why is it happening here, of all places?"

"We're at the edge of the Korcari Wilds, the eye of the Blight storm, right where the horde will be coming," Alistair explained. "Ostagar itself is an excellent defensive position. The wilders were pushed back from here time and again in ancient days."

Despite the Warden's encouraging statements, Kaslyn seriously doubted that the wilders spent four hundred years building up their numbers for such attacks. They were also human and, as she knew, darkspawn were considerably more dangerous than the average person. Recalling what Alistair had said earlier about being kept from the fighting, she asked, "How much will I be participating?"

"You know, that's a good question," Alistair remarked. He gestured towards the camp to the west of them and said, "The other Grey Wardens are going into battle with the king. I don't know if you'll be with them." He waited, wondering if she knew how sick she was, but she only sighed softly. Glancing around he was a little startled to notice how far the sun had set. Only about half of it was still visible above the distant peaks, making this area of the ruin quite dark. He had told the other men to return to the Grey Warden tent by now and he really couldn't make a special exception for the Dalish. Before he could mention anything, however, she quietly spoke.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about the Joining ritual?"

"I wish I could tell you more," he replied. He really wished he could give her some reassurance but there was just nothing he could say. Assuaging his regret, he told her, "Maybe ask me again after Duncan speaks to you about it. You want to ask me about anything else?"

She shook her head, "I've no more questions." Her mind was full of the information he had already imparted to her. She had much to think on and she didn't want to pester Alistair into impatience with her. They had only just met that afternoon, after all, and her humor suggested waiting at least a day before she became really annoying.

Alistair picked up their stacked dishes with one hand, hooking his last two fingers through the handle of the empty tankard. "Then let's get a move on, shall we?" He smoothly got to his feet and offered his free hand back to Kaslyn but she was already standing beside him.

She looked up at him with one eyebrow arched with interest. For such a large man, he moved quite effortlessly. No one had cleaned up her clutter since before she apprenticed with the hunters and it didn't seem quite right that the Warden was clearing her dishes – even if he was the most 'junior' member – so she reached to take her own plate from him. He smiled cheerfully, ignored her gesture, and started walking back to the king's camp.

"I asked Daveth and Ser Jory to be back at the Grey Warden tent by sundown," he told her, "and Duncan wouldn't appreciate me setting a bad example."

Brushing the dirt from her kilt as they walked, she glanced around and was interested to note how late it had gotten. All she had meant to do was get to know the other Grey Warden a little better while her dinner settled. In spite of her near-frantic desire to escape the surrounding humans, Alistair's company, oddly enough, had been no strain on her frayed and despairing nerve. Eyeing him mischievously, she asked, "So, if sunset comes earlier out here because of the mountains…, does that mean sunrise comes later?"

He chuckled and replied, "I wouldn't count on it!" He never would have guessed someone so quiet and apparently reserved would be so responsive. Normally no one was much interested in anything he had to say and he had enjoyed sharing his knowledge with such an attentive listener. She grinned at his reaction, and readily kept up with him as they crossed the bridge and started to detour towards the dining area. Halfway there, they came across the elven messenger on his way back to the portion of camp where the king's servants were housed. By now, Alistair was not the least bit surprised when Kaslyn greeted Pick by name or when the young man offered to take care of their dirty dishes for them. They both thanked him and Kaslyn asked that he pass along her gratitude to the others for their earlier kindness to her. He happily agreed and bobbed his head at both Wardens before racing off on his original mission, taking the used dinnerware with him. Alistair then turned their steps towards the blue and grey tent and explained that Duncan had planned the sleeping arrangements. They found Daveth and Ser Jory sitting across from each other on a couple of benches near the fire. Although Daveth should have known better, a suggestive smile slithered across his features as the Dalish and the Warden arrived together. Alistair glimpsed Kaslyn raise one eyebrow pointedly at the cut-purse. Daveth abruptly cleared both his throat and the smirk from his face while Ser Jory remained obliviously content polishing his sword.

Alistair gestured towards the tent and allowed Kaslyn to enter first before he followed and indicated she should bear leftward around the partition. The first thing she noticed on the back wall was a small mirror hung over a washstand with a large pitcher of water sitting in an enormous basin. Underneath the table was a chamber pot decorated to match the ewer and washbasin. On the right she saw three cots that were obviously claimed, and a wood-framed screen at the far end of the row. Beneath each bed was a small trunk. As she skirted the row of beds, scent placed Daveth closest to the entry, followed by Jory, and Alistair. Peeking around the ornately embroidered screen, she saw two more, empty cots on the other side. Between the two beds stood another mirror, washstand, and matching pot. Guessing the neatly made bed nearest the divider was probably for Duncan, Kaslyn pointed towards the other unused cot, bedding still rolled atop it, which was set up alongside another small chest against the far wall, and softly inquired, "Is that for me?"

"I believe so," Alistair agreed. Hesitantly he pointed out, "You should probably go ahead and get some rest…." Suddenly inspired, he added, "Since you and Duncan only got here this afternoon and tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I'll make your excuses to the others, if you like."

Kaslyn frowned in thought then said, "Actually, I think I'll just leave my pack here and be social for a little while. After all, we're supposed to be Wardens all together, right?"

Alistair considered for a moment. Duncan had asked that he try to get her to eat and rest. She had eaten and he didn't think it would take much effort to sit and talk. He grinned and replied, "That's true." He gestured to the cot and added, "Your belongings will be perfectly fine here."

Slinging her pack onto the unmade bed, she paused. Looking up at him, she murmured, "Ma serannas …, er…, I mean thank you, Alistair… for everything."

He smiled with startled pleasure and answered, "You're welcome, my lady." His grin widened at her droll expression and she returned his smile with one of her own. He indicated the other side of the canvas wall and said, "Shall we?"

She nodded and they went back to the front room of the tent to see the other two men had taken seats at the worktable. Daveth produced a deck of cards and, skillfully shuffling them, casually inquired if any of them were familiar with a game called Wicked Grace. He won the first few hands until Kaslyn caught on to the particular intricacies of that game and won the next few. It was very similar to a Dalish version called Hunter's Snare and she offered to show them how to play. Alistair soon suggested a game he knew just so he might have a chance to win a hand or two. Ser Jory really did not know any card games and was an easy mark at best.

Eyeing the other men for a little while, Kaslyn eventually asked the knight, "So, Ser Jory, you said you were from Redcliffe? Or Highever?"

Ser Jory clarified, "I hail from Redcliffe but Duncan recruited me in Highever, a city off the northern coast. Have you travelled there?"

"My clan has been that far north but never there directly," Kaslyn replied.

"I was in Arl Eamon's retinue when he attended King Maric's funeral. It was in Highever that I met my Helena." He sighed unconsciously and a reminiscent smile played over his features. "I was smitten. She has the most beautiful eyes, my Helena. For years I found any excuse to return there. We married a year ago." He glanced around the table and explained, "Arl Eamon gave me leave to serve in Highever, but I was attempting to persuade Helena to come to Redcliffe with me. At least, until I was recruited. I will return to her once my duty's done and the Blight defeated."

"So where are you from, Daveth?" Kaslyn focused her curious gaze on the other man.

"I grew up in a village 'bout a day's trip to the east. Little blot you wouldn't even find on a map," he responded with a smirk. "Haven't been back in years. I struck out for the city as soon as I could outrun my pa." His expression became thoughtful as he regarded his cards and he said, "I've been in Denerim for, what … six years now? Never liked it much, but there's more purses there than anywhere else." His smirk reappeared and he glanced around at the others, adding, "Who'd ever guess I'd end up a Grey Warden?"

Echoing his smile, Kaslyn peered at the Warden and inquired, "Where are you from, Alistair?"

"I grew up in Redcliffe," he answered easily, "before Duncan recruited me."

Recalling Alistair's previous remarks, Kaslyn wasn't certain how much of his conscription from the Chantry he cared to share. Given his brief answer, she waited a moment, then turned back to the others and asked, "So how did the Grey Wardens find you, Ser Jory? A tournament, I thought you said?"

The knight nodded and played a card which Daveth immediately swept up. He frowned slightly and said, "Last month Duncan visited Highever and the bann held a tournament in his honor. I won the grand melee." He gazed around the table at them. "It was hard to leave my wife. We married only a year ago, and she is heavy with child now. Ferelden needs my blade, however, and I shall not falter."

Kaslyn cast an expectant look at the other man and asked, "How did the Grey Wardens find you, Daveth?"

"I found them. I cut Duncan's purse while he was standing in a crowd," he admitted somewhat sheepishly. "He grabs my wrist but I squirm out and bolt. The old bugger can run, but the garrison caught me first." Neither Alistair nor Jory appeared impressed but Kaslyn was intrigued. Seeing her interest, he admitted, "I'm a wanted man in Denerim, you see, so they were going to string me up right there."

"What happened then," Kaslyn pressed.

"Duncan stopped them. Invoked the Right of Conscription. I gave the garrison the finger while I was walking away," he added smugly. His expression became more serious and he said, "Don't know why Duncan wants someone like me, but he says finesse is important, and that I'm fast with a blade." He snorted and said, "Heh, you bet your boots I am. Besides, it beats getting strung up," he chuckled.

"So what do you think of Duncan exactly," she asked him.

Daveth smirked, "He's all right for an old bugger. He's faster than he looks, too."

This insouciance was evidently too much for Ser Jory who spoke up, "He has a seemingly impossible task, with a scarce handful of Grey Wardens, yet he does not complain or flinch from his duty."

"He's a good man," Alistair agreed. He had been impressed at the Dalish's effortless handling of the conversation. She had drawn nearly as much personal information from the others as she had from him previously, and yet she hadn't pressured him to reveal any more about himself in front of the recruits than he wished, he noted with relief.

The next couple of hours passed pleasantly enough. Eventually Duncan came in and gave them all a curious glance, apparently surprised to find them still awake and so agreeably engaged. Alistair and Kaslyn in particular each thought they felt the weight of his lingering gaze. With his authoritative presence lending them impetus, they all hastily agreed to call it a night and sought their beds.

Returning to her bunk, Kaslyn moved her pack from the bed to the canvas floor and leaned it next to the side of the cot. She wasn't about to trust the trunk, although she did look inside long enough to find the key that must fit the lock. Where there was one key, there were likely others, and she had met plenty of people that day who probably knew as much or more about locks as she did. Unfastening her weapon harness, she laid it on the floor, arranging all of her gear within easy reach. A roll of bedding was bundled at the head of the cot but the Dalish chose to place it next to the nearby chest, in favor of spreading her own bear fur out onto the bed. Turning her attention to the ewer that had been left on the table alongside the bed, she found the water inside was comfortably cool. Although, she had managed a quick bath the night before they arrived, her explorations of the king's camp had left her feeling dusty. She could clearly hear the other men on the other side of the screen also getting ready to sleep, and after a momentary debate, she removed her boots and bracers, baring her arms to her shoulders and her legs to the bottom of her kilt. While she appreciated the semi-privacy of the screen, she wasn't about to expose any more skin than necessary with four, strange men in the same sleeping space. She had camped with other male hunters previously but they had either been members of her clan, other Dalish, or both, and knew how to behave appropriately. Wetting a washcloth, she quickly wiped off her face, arms, torso, and legs, wringing out the used water in the pot provided, and leaving the majority of the clean water. When she finished, she loosed her hair, adjusted the placement of her hunting knives at her back, and rolled herself into her pelt. Sleep did not come swiftly and she stared at the blank wall of the tent for a little while. Although muffled due to the heavy material surrounding her and becoming more subdued due to the deepening night, the scents and sounds of her surroundings were still foreign, and it took some time before her instincts accepted she was in a safe place. Eventually, the smell of her familiar fur lulled her, the sounds of the camp grew distant in her tired mind, and finally she fell asleep.


	5. The Joining

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns DragonAge and all related materials (and most of the dialogue). I am simply grateful they allow others to play in their world. _

_My sincere apologies to anyone still following this tale. I have been caught up in DA2 but I will try to get back to knitting this yarn._

_(I also want to acknowledge that I changed the rating from T to M because I wasn't certain if a couple of scene descriptions fit the milder category and I really didn't want to try to write them again. It was probably nothing to anyone but me.)_

* * *

**Chapter Five – The Joining**

Kaslyn woke up to a combination of fierce aching across her hips and lower back coupled with thunderous snores rolling through the tent. Although it was still dark, there was no way she was going to get back to sleep anytime soon. With a resigned sigh, she pushed herself upright and saw Duncan asleep nearby. She must have been more tired than she thought if she never heard him go to bed last night. The first thing she did was to find her copper cup and make the herbal tea that he had taught her. While that steeped, she quickly got cleaned up and tidied her bedding. Strapping on her bracers and elbow guards was not a problem but putting on her boots and knee armor evoked a grimace as she bent over to fasten them to her legs and she stifled a groan behind a clenched jaw when she sat upright again. She combed out her hair and smoothly pulled it up into the usual high tail then fastened on her weapon harness. Leaving her pack on the cot, she took her cup and journal bag towards the public side of the tent, silently passing the sleeping men. It turned out Ser Jory was the noisy one and Kaslyn shook her head with amazement that the others could sleep through such racket. Her hips and back still painfully stiff, she set down her items at the worktable, and started collecting her thoughts while she pulled out her writing materials and lit a single candle to work by. Finally, she braced herself, picked up the cup and tossed the bitter tea into the back of her throat, and swallowed as quickly as she could. Most of the horrible flavor missed her tongue but enough lingered so that she found some mint in a pouch and chewed that while she quietly rinsed her cup clean. Afterwards she sat at the table and recorded her first experiences of Ostagar, including the lore she had learned and illustrations of some of the various people she had met and sights she had seen. When she finished she slouched back in her chair, letting the last of the ink dry, and waiting for the medicine to work. Eventually she put away the book and tools, folding the journal bag into her bedroll which she again tied to her pack. Grabbing her gear, she went outside to watch the rest of the camp come to life as the day dawned bright and clear.

Kaslyn was sitting on a bench outside the tent, oiling her dar'misus, when Duncan emerged. He had already gotten dressed in his orange silk shirt and long overcoat of pale grey leather that dropped below his knees. Matching leather boots reinforced with strips of silverite protected the visible portions of his lower legs and feet. From the back of his weapon harness hung his sword and dagger. Despite scrambling all over camp the previous day, Kaslyn still had not seen anyone wearing leathers like his – or her own for that matter. Pulling on his grey leather gauntlets, he caught sight of her and asked, "How are you feeling this morning, Kaslyn?"

"Better now," she replied. She had let the infusion steep longer for extra strength and it was a good thing she had. Even now, the pain was not completely gone but it had lessened considerably from the initial wrenching ache into an occasional mild twinge.

He frowned as he considered her then acknowledged his understanding. "We should be able to take care of that today."

She nodded in response. She was tired of feeling slow and stupid all the time. Duncan politely excused himself to attend to some other business and she watched him disappear into the northern portion of the camp.

Soon the rest of the men made their way out of the Grey Warden tent. Rubbing his hands together briskly, Daveth asked, "Who's ready to eat?" Alistair and Ser Jory appeared agreeable but Kaslyn made no move to join them. "What?" Daveth asked jovially," Not interested in breakfast, my lady?"

Recalling the last time she tried to get something to eat here, Kaslyn winced ruefully and responded, "I'm … not really hungry. Thanks." Her stomach chose that moment to loudly growl a disclaimer to that statement and the men chuckled. She scowled down at her gut and grumbled softly, "Traitor."

Having no trouble anticipating her apprehension, Alistair cheerfully told her, "Don't worry. I'm sure everything will be fine this time. Trust me."

She considered the junior Warden with one skeptically arched eyebrow. He said those words an awful lot it seemed. There was no good reason in all of Thedas why she should trust him… except … he did make her laugh yesterday. He had been friendly, and kind to her, and oddly enough, she did have an inclination to believe him. Finally she reluctantly agreed and accompanied the men to the dining hall. It turned out that Alistair was correct. There was no sign of the uncouth man from last night, and everyone was as pleasant as the early hour permitted them to be. After an unremarkable breakfast, the junior Warden and the three recruits assembled at the guardian fire still burning before the Grey Warden tent. When Duncan rejoined them Alistair immediately took his place next to the senior Warden, facing the others.

"Now then, since you're all here, we can begin," Duncan greeted them. "You four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks. The first is to obtain three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."

"Go into the Wilds? Isn't that dangerous?" Daveth asked anxiously.

"You weren't recruited out of charity," Duncan replied, his gaze measuring each of them in turn. "All three of you are skilled and resourceful." He indicated the young man next to him and said, "Alistair is the most junior member of our order and will accompany you as is tradition. Do not worry. I doubt you will need to go far into the Wilds to find what you seek."

"What do we need darkspawn blood for?" Ser Jory asked. He looked horrified at the very idea.

"For the Joining itself," Duncan answered, "I'll explain more once you've returned."

"Surely you could've acquired some blood before now," Kaslyn quietly inquired with a skeptical expression. With three battles here previously and an unknown number of scouting missions, there had been plenty of opportunities.

"Of course," Duncan chuckled at her dubious tone. His face grew serious as he explained, "You must work together to collect the components, however. It's as much a part of the Joining as what comes after."

"Finally some action," Kaslyn muttered under her breath with relief. After four days of travel, yesterday's limited investigation of the king's camp had only whet her curiosity to explore the area further. At least now she wouldn't have to sneak out of camp to get into the Wilds and look around.

Duncan overheard her subtle comment and chuckled, "Without a doubt. Darkspawn aren't renowned for their willingness to offer up their blood."

Startled, Kaslyn smiled sheepishly and hastily asked, "You mentioned a second task?"

The senior Warden sobered again and went on, "There was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds, abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts." His dark gaze swept over each of them, "It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them." He looked directly at the young Warden standing next to him and said, "Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can."

Kaslyn glanced around at the other recruits. They didn't seem especially interested but she wanted to know, "What kind of scrolls are these?"

"Old treaties, if you're curious. Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago," Duncan responded. "They were once considered only formalities. With so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with."

"How will we find this archive?" asked the Dalish hunter, intent on the day's assignment.

"It will be an overgrown ruin by now, but the sealed chest should remain intact," Duncan gestured to the junior Warden at his side and added, "Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search."

"And if they're no longer there?" Kaslyn inquired. Much could change in a wilderness given enough time, she knew.

Duncan nodded his understanding and said, "It's possible the scrolls may have been destroyed or even stolen, though the seal's magic should have protected them. Only a Grey Warden can break such a seal," he warned.

"I don't understand…," Alistair spoke up, "Why leave such things in a ruin if they're so valuable?"

Duncan looked at the younger Warden and explained, "It was assumed that we would someday return. A great many things were assumed that have not held true."

"But a Warden _is_ returning to reclaim them," Kaslyn pointed out quietly. They all looked at her with surprise and confusion and she gestured towards the two men standing before her, adding inquisitively, "Isn't now considered 'someday'?"

"Indeed," Duncan agreed with a wide smile while the other men laughed quietly at her odd logic.

Kaslyn suddenly cocked her head with a narrow-eyed gaze at the senior Warden and asked, "Is this part of our Joining, too?"

"No," Duncan answered, his features again becoming serious, "but the effort must be made." He looked at the Dalish and said, "I have every confidence you are up to the task."

Kaslyn's eyebrows twitched upwards at that. Her head drew back slightly before she finally nodded and replied, "Find the archive and three vials of blood. Understood."

Neither Daveth nor Jory appeared to have any further comments or questions, and Duncan looked at the young Warden next to him, "Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely."

"We will!" Alistair replied with a sharp nod of his head.

"Then may the Maker watch over your path," Duncan told them all, "I will see you when you return."

Alistair instructed the recruits to get whatever else they thought they might need and to meet at the Wilds gate in five minutes. Kaslyn already carried all of her gear but had a sudden, uncomfortable thought. She really didn't want to take all of her belongings with her on this hunt but she didn't want to leave anything unguarded in the camp either. Inspiration struck and she quickly trotted over to the kennels. The master there saw her and when she inquired about the sick hound, he told her, "The mabari is stable for now but not improving. Unless I get that herb I told you about, there's not much hope."

"I'll see if I can find it today," she promised.

"I hope you do," the man responded, "He probably won't survive without it."

Kaslyn nodded her understanding then asked for a word with the dog. The kennel master agreed with a grin and gestured towards the pen. The great hound had evidently noticed her and was waiting by the entrance to his enclosure. Latching the gate behind her, she turned to face the enormous hound, and said, "I know we just met, but I would really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on something for me while I'm out in the Wilds today. I just don't feel right leaving it in a tent where anyone could get to it - given some of the people I ran into yesterday."

The dog snorted mildly.

Kaslyn nodded with a smile, "Exactly." She saw his tail wag before she proceeded to the far side of the pen which backed up to the remains of a ruined building. There she set her bundled bedroll against the stone wall behind the clean, dry straw of his bed. She turned back to him, "I really appreciate your helping me out. I'll be back for this as soon as I can." Daring to gently thump his shoulder with a fist, she added, "Stay strong, warrior." The dog huffed softly through his muzzle then lay down in the straw between her bedroll and the fence. She smiled at him again before she hurried off to meet the others at the gate. That should keep her things safe and give the hound something to focus on while he waited today.

The other men were already assembled and when she arrived Alistair handed her an empty vial. After thanking him and putting it away, Kaslyn looked up to find the guard there was the same older man she had spoken to the previous day. "Hail!" He greeted them all, "I'm told you all have business in the Wilds. The gate's open for you … just _be careful_ out there," he said, with an eye on the smallest member of the group, "Even a Grey Warden won't be safe in the forest tonight."

Kaslyn took no offense and smiled at his paternal caution as they set off through the gate into the Wilds beyond. The trail led westward away from the camp before gradually curving downwards, until they were off the escarpment and facing south on the marshy, forested floor of the neighboring valley. Since a hunt leader had not been clearly designated, Kaslyn maintained her reserve and started familiarizing herself with the general atmosphere of her surroundings while she waited for someone to take charge of their mission. She doubted Ser Jory would step forward but he was apparently a knight so maybe he was trained to lead. This was supposedly near Daveth's original home and he had claimed to have been in the Wilds a few times so she figured he had at least some experience with this wilderness. Failing that, Alistair was the one required to find the treaties in the Grey Warden archive lost somewhere out here. As for the Joining quest, if there was an army of darkspawn in the area, it was likely inevitable that they would run across enough monsters to fill three vials with their blood. At least the Wilds were much easier on her senses than the noise and odor of the king's camp, she thought gratefully.

~O~

They had not been on the move for a full two hours and it was the third time the three men struggled to wade through the mire. This time Alistair nearly lost a boot in the thick mud and he started to reconsider his initial plan. He had asked Daveth to lead them because the cut-purse had allegedly grown up not far from here and had admitted some familiarity with the Wilds. Now it was quickly becoming obvious that they would not cover much ground wading through bogs for the rest of the day. On top of that, Daveth was clearly not comfortable being in the front. Ser Jory was an even unlikelier candidate to get them through this wilderness and appeared even more ill at ease with their surroundings than Alistair. Kaslyn, on the other hand, had experienced no such difficulties. Unlike the heavier men, the Dalish had been unhindered by the soft ground. Of course, he thought wryly, she probably weighed less than half of what any of them did, and as far as the Warden could tell, her winding path had kept her on firm footing the entire time. Alistair sighed. Along with a half-dozen vials for darkspawn blood, Duncan had provided him with an old map of the area to give him a general idea of the archive's location, and had cautioned him about using Kaslyn sparingly so as not to exacerbate the taint overtaking her system. Alistair was uncertain how to accomplish that without offending the hunter. Still, if anyone was going to get them through this marshy wilderness today, he had to figure it was probably the Dalish.

Finally clear of the most recent muck, Alistair was about to call a halt and try to implement some changes when he saw Kaslyn abruptly draw her bow and fit an arrow to the string. Before he could ask, they were suddenly attacked by a wolf charging from behind an outcrop on their left. Alistair and Ser Jory quickly drew their swords, but the arrow unleashed from the powerful bow already whistled between them to dispatch the lunging wolf. Kaslyn did not pause and immediately swung her bow to the right. A second, snarling wolf broke through the underbrush and she fired an arrow into its chest and killed it just as more wolves appeared. Alistair caught the new direction of attack and strode forward to set up a defensive point with Ser Jory closely following. Bashing a third wolf aside with his shield, the young Warden slashed at a fourth wolf with his sword. The knight took a position nearby and scythed his greatsword towards two more wolves closing with him. Daveth also smoothly turned his arrows on the pack as three more wolves joined the skirmish. Overhearing Kaslyn's occasional warnings to alter their tactics, Alistair complied and her timely suggestions prevented him and Ser Jory from being swarmed. The armor of the two forward warriors protected them from the claws and fangs of the animals and soon all nine wolves lay dead with no one injured. Their blades had made a mess of the pelts, however, and out of the entire pack Kaslyn judged that only four were worth skinning. She quickly accomplished that task while the warriors cleaned their weapons and Daveth retrieved any useable arrows.

"I've never heard of so many wolves attacking people," Daveth remarked curiously.

"They're just dumb, savage beasts," Ser Jory muttered.

"Wolves don't just randomly attack people," Kaslyn corrected. "They were afraid, confused, or maybe protecting something in their territory…." She hesitated before gesturing to one clearly underweight corpse, and suggesting, "If there are darkspawn in this area, the pack may have been fleeing or in search of game the monsters have chased off." She frowned then shook her head uncertainly, murmuring to herself, "It makes no sense. They could have easily fled…."

Alistair overheard her quiet comments and offered, "Sometimes when predators eat… tainted flesh they can become tainted as well. They get addled just like people and don't really know what they're doing anymore."

She looked up at him with an inquisitive expression, "Like the mabari hounds in the king's kennels?"

He was almost surprised she knew about them, but recalled crossing the camp with her yesterday, and nodded his head. "Yes," he responded, "Just like them but out here on their own …."

"They go mad and eventually die," she finished for him and he nodded silently.

Alistair was momentarily thoughtful before his eyes lit with inspiration. "Kaslyn, you're obviously the most woods-wise of us, you should take point." Indicating the dead animals around them, he added, "When we run into trouble, you and Daveth can continue to cover Ser Jory and me at a distance." He smiled at her startled nod of acceptance. That should keep them all out of the ooze, minimize the chances the Dalish would have to engage anything directly, and prevent her from aggravating her condition.

She looked unsurely at Daveth who smirked and gestured for her to proceed. "I might have been in the Wilds a few times," he admitted, "but not very far or for very long – if I could help it."

Pleased his recommendation had gone over so well, Alistair urged, "Let's get a move on. Darkspawn aren't going to kill themselves unfortunately."

Kaslyn was relieved that Daveth took no offense at this change and a corner of her mouth pulled upward as she started forward. She set off at an easy stride and reminded herself she was not leading experienced Dalish but humans with unknown capabilities. She quickly realized it was the best speed she would likely manage for the rest of the day and the thought caused her a grimace of frustration. Despite the Dalish's private misgivings, they made much better progress over the terrain this time and if the others had been asked, they would have agreed her pace was brisk enough.

A little while later, Kaslyn stopped, noting a scent in the air.

From behind, the men only saw the Dalish pause and lift her head slightly. Alistair asked, "What is it?"

"Death," she answered softly.

She led them to the right of their original path until they came across a large pond, thickly surrounded by tall reeds. Walking back and forth for a few seconds, she parted the cattails to reveal a human body floating in the water. The man was dressed in Chantry robes and lay face up with a large, crude arrow protruding from his chest. Kaslyn silently recognized it as a darkspawn shaft. Once Ser Jory and Alistair pulled the corpse out of the water to the shore, Daveth rifled the contents of a small leather pouch on the dead man's belt. He found a folded paper and with some difficulty read the note aloud. It turned out to be a letter addressed to someone named Jogby. After welcoming the young missionary's decision to bring the Maker's word to the unenlightened, the note went on to describe a series of landmarks allegedly leading to a location with supplies left for him by his father, Missionary Rigby, who also sent the message. Daveth finished reading then grinned and inquired, "So, do we want to find this Rigby's stash?"

"Absolutely not," Ser Jory protested, "He left those supplies for his son!"

"Who's not going to be making much use of them now, is he?" Daveth replied, gesturing to the body. He shot a glance at Kaslyn.

"Then we should find Missionary Rigby and tell him the fate of his son," Ser Jory insisted. "He can decide what to do with his own goods." He looked to Alistair for support.

Alistair and Kaslyn looked at each other.

"They each have a point. What do you think, Kaslyn?" Alistair asked curiously.

Kaslyn chewed the inside of her cheek in thought then shrugged and said, "He may have come out here to chant at the Chasind but if the wilders have darkspawn to contend with, they won't have time to listen to him about the Chantry. Following the clues would give us something more interesting to hunt than darkspawn and, if there are supplies out here, we should claim them before the monsters can use or ruin them."

"It is too much like robbing from the dead," Ser Jory objected.

Kaslyn shrugged again and added, "If we find the father, we can always tell him about his son, offer to return his supplies to him, and escort him back to Ostagar." She looked at the Warden and waited. She had no idea if the father was alive but if that consideration calmed the skittish knight…. Evidently this compromise was acceptable and Daveth handed the letter to the knight. While Ser Jory and Alistair read through it again, Daveth sidled closer to her.

"You don't really believe the old bugger's still alive with darkspawn out here, do you?" He murmured, almost more of a statement than a question.

Mindful of his proximity and the other two men nearby, Kaslyn softly replied, "I don't know." She peered at him and added, "Like I said, if nothing else, this gives us something to look for besides monsters."

"True," he smirked.

Eventually the Warden was ready to go but the knight lingered. "We can't just leave a man of the cloth lying here like this," Ser Jory observed. The other men appeared to be in dubious agreement but Kaslyn balked.

"Let someone else come out here for the bodies," she suggested. The men looked at her with an array of disconcerted expressions.

Daveth's startled features became curious as he asked, "Bodies? You mean there's more?"

Kaslyn swallowed and nodded silently. She glanced around uncomfortably and admitted, "I … think this is only the first."

Alistair looked at the elf searchingly. Her gaze was unwavering and he could not read anything in her face. He sighed and pushed one hand up over his forehead and back through his hair. Uncertain how she could know such a thing, he finally nodded and told the others, "All right. Let's assess the entire situation before we make any decisions. We should use our time out here well."

Daveth looked mildly uneasy but Ser Jory was clearly troubled. Kaslyn had tried to caution them as best she could. Given the scents she had detected, there was a _lot_ of spilled blood ahead and she doubted anyone there needed help.

Unfortunately, the hunter turned out to be correct. Missionary Jogby's corpse was only the start of the grisly trail. Once more following the Dalish, they came across six more human bodies scattered near another, smaller pool of water on the left of their path. One corpse was mostly naked but the rest were easily identified by their uniform chainmail armor as soldiers from the king's army, although a few were missing helmets, boots, or hauberks. While the others fished a couple of bodies from the water, Kaslyn continued forward cautiously through the sparse wood to investigate the clearing ahead. She paused, crouched in the concealing brush, and looked around intently. The carnage was horrific. Grass, trees, ruins, and bushes had been splattered in various shades of gore. Brownish blood still pooled on the ground in places where the dirt was simply too soaked to readily absorb any more. On the left side of the clearing, supply crates and barrels of water were scattered where they had been tossed from a nearby wagon. The containers were all unexpectedly intact but the ox that had pulled the wagon lay dead in its yoke. The charred remains of another cart lay further ahead on the right side of the trail. Movement caught her eye and she heard a faint gasp as one of the bodies stirred. It looked to be one of the king's soldiers struggling to rise or drag himself along the ground but Kaslyn was wary as she slowly entered the scarlet scene. Cursory evidence suggested that darkspawn had committed this slaughter a day or two ago but she was unwilling to take any chances they were not lingering close by.

Heavy footsteps from behind announced the arrival of the Warden and the others. Alerted by the noise, the severely wounded soldier called hoarsely, "Over here!" He was still trying to crawl on his elbows and knees but not making a great deal of progress and the quartet wasted no time approaching the man. He was covered in blood – more than his own, Kaslyn wordlessly noted - and it became obvious that among his many injuries, his right arm was badly broken. He raised his head and gasped, "Who… is that? Grey Wardens…?"

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Alistair asked lightly in distinct counterpoint to the grim prospects around them.

"My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn," the wounded man told them desperately while he held his injured arm protectively close to his middle, "They came out of the ground. Please help me. I've got to … return to camp."

"Let's try to bandage him up at least," Kaslyn suggested, looking around alertly. They needed to get themselves and anyone else alive out of here before any larger predators moved into the area. They obviously couldn't take the wounded scout with them, but they could at least help him escape this disaster. This carnage was quite likely what had deeply disturbed the wolves although there was evidence the animals might have taken advantage of the situation as well.

"I have bandages in my pack," Alistair volunteered and immediately knelt to aid the injured man.

A few minutes later, the soldier was field-patched as best as the Warden could manage. Afterward, Ser Jory shared his canteen with the man. "Thank you!" The scout groaned as he made it to his feet on his own power. "I … I've got to get out of here!"

"We can take you back," Ser Jory offered.

The soldier shook his head and replied, "I can get back by myself." The group parted reluctantly and the man slowly limped away in the right direction for Ostagar.

"Did you hear that?" the knight asked nervously, "An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!"

"Calm down, Ser Jory," Alistair encouraged reasonably, "We'll be fine if we're careful."

"Those soldiers were careful and they were still overwhelmed," the knight protested. "How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire army in these forests!"

Alistair glanced at the other two recruits. He noted the Dalish wisely keeping a watch about them and the cut-purse thoughtfully fingering the knives at his belt but they both seemed relatively composed given the circumstances. He responded reassuringly, "There are darkspawn about but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."

Not if she could help it, Kaslyn silently agreed. She then recalled Alistair mentioning something about Grey Wardens being able to sense darkspawn and she took a brief appraisal of him. A quick glance at Daveth showed her the rogue narrowly eyeing the Warden with speculation as well. Daveth's gaze then went back to the knight and his disgust was clear.

"How do you know?" Ser Jory replied. He seemed to realize how fearful his words sounded, and to whom he was speaking, and added, "I - I'm not a coward but this is foolish and reckless! We should go back."

"We're far from helpless," Kaslyn said quietly, glancing at the knight, "We'll be fine."

Ser Jory only spared her a dismissive look before turning his eyes back to Alistair and insisting, "I still do not relish the thought of encountering an army."

"Overcoming these dangers is part of our test," Kaslyn reminded him. She kept her own gaze warily roaming their surroundings. Fortunately, she still detected no imminent threats.

Ser Jory shifted uncomfortably at this prompt from the only woman present and finally admitted, "That's … true."

"Know this," Alistair said quietly, and his voice was sincere enough to attract everyone's attention, "All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I _guarantee_ they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here."

Joining the effort, Daveth smirked, "You see, ser knight? We might die but we'll be warned about it first."

"That is … reassuring?" Ser Jory replied with some puzzlement.

Daveth shot a look at the Dalish and winked. Kaslyn bowed her head to disguise a smile of her own from the nervous knight. Daveth evidently noticed her mild reaction but she subtly shifted her stance away from him before he could nudge her with a friendly elbow.

"That doesn't mean I'm here to make this easy, however," Alistair informed them briskly, "So let's get a move on."

Further investigation of the site of the slaughter revealed four more soldiers' bodies sprawled just ahead of the wagon's path. Ser Jory tentatively asked, "How many do you think it took to … do this? A dozen?"

Straightening from a crouch where she had been examining some tracks, Kaslyn glanced back at the men. There were indications on the carcass of the ox that wolves had been feeding here but she could also discern the difference between wounds inflicted by fangs and those made by blades. Footprints in the soft ground also told the Dalish quite a bit. She caught Alistair's uncertain expression, shook her head negatively, and softly remarked, "No more than five darkspawn did this." She saw Daveth's eyebrows arch and a low whistle escaped him at the same time Ser Jory's already pale face whitened. "Although," she added thoughtfully, "A couple of them were bigger than a genlock."

"A genlock?" Ser Jory asked, "What in the Maker's name is that?"

Kaslyn started to explain then simply predicted, "You'll see." She had trouble believing that after being the first Warden recruit to arrive in the army camp, Ser Jory had apparently never managed to find out what their foes were called. She took another look at the anxious knight; then again, maybe it wasn't so hard to believe. Her eyes flickered over to the Warden who nodded understandingly.

Alistair's serious expression dissolved into an encouraging grin, "Well, that's why we're out here!"

Departing the scene, they continued on further south into the Wilds. It was a pretty place, Kaslyn mused. Certainly there was still plenty of game to be had as her keen hunter's eye marked yet another bold squirrel scampering nearly across her feet and she spotted a few marsh deer watching them curiously from a distant copse of trees. Ostagar was not the only Tevinter ruin scattered out here. Chunks of walls and columns, a few still connected by worn arches, littered the area. In some lakes and ponds, the remains of semi-sunken buildings slouched in repose like great stone bathers. Near one such pool a few dead tree trunks had collected along the bank. Growing in the wood were scattered clusters of beautiful white flowers with deep red centers whose wafting scent strongly reminded her of honey. Oh, it had been a long time since she'd had any of that sweet treat, she thought wistfully. She paused to carefully cut a few blossoms from the wood, and with equal care, tucked them into her pack. With any luck that should be the flower the kennel master required for the ailing hound.

During their journey they kept their eyes open for the landmarks described in the missionary's letter. The first one mentioned was a fallen tree leaning against a ruin, and Ser Jory excitedly pointed out a moss-covered trunk slanted against a crumbling wall. The Dalish forbore to gesture to another fallen bole that tilted against a tumbling tower a half a dozen yards away. Kaslyn said nothing but thought the directions were rather vague given the terrain they traversed. Fallen trees and ruined structures were everywhere out here. It was a forest bordering on a marsh, after all. Rigby's landmarks were clearly written by someone who had no real knowledge of the wilderness.

They had not been travelling for very long when she heard Alistair make a soft warning sound from her left. She automatically held up a fist near her shoulder before belatedly recalling she was not hunting with other Dalish. Dropping the signal for them to stop, she winced inwardly with chagrin as the men continued right up to where she stood before they halted.

"Darkspawn are ahead," Alistair quietly warned them, scanning the group. The knight visibly flinched and paled, and the cut-purse narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, but the Dalish looked at him expectantly.

"How many?" Ser Jory asked nervously. He started to shade his eyes to look around but Kaslyn's hushed voice stopped him.

"Put your hand down, Ser Jory. No point in telling them we know they're close."

"I'm not sure," Alistair admitted. "Some Wardens can tell you how many and what kind but I haven't been one long enough to develop that ability yet." He wasn't sure he was looking forward to that or not, given the kind of practical exposure that sort of refinement usually required. The Dalish startled him by speaking up again.

"They seem to travel in scouting parties of at least five," she told them quietly, "two forward scouts and three as back-up." She glanced at the Warden hesitantly then looked at the other men and informed them, "They're fast, strong, and tough but they _will_ die if they bleed enough."

Alistair was surprised by her insightful observation. He had never heard or read that sort of tactical information about the darkspawn. He would have to consider later if her estimation of their foes corresponded to the whispering tug in his chest. "Right," he granted. "As before with the wolves, we'll take the lead," he indicated the knight and himself, "You two pick off the stragglers."

Before any of the recruits could respond there was a blood-curdling howl from up ahead and a monster charged at them through the underbrush. It was the size and shape of a large human man but that was where the similarities ended. Its hairless head was covered with dark, withered flesh that looked like melted black or brown wax. Similar to the genlock, it had tiny eyes, no real nose, and a sharp-toothed grimace, but unlike the smaller, heavyset darkspawn, it had no discernable ears, only oddly-twisted lumps in the sides of its head. The rest of the monster's body was covered in makeshift, heavy armor that appeared to be a filthy attempt at some sort of chain or platemail and it carried a crude broadsword.

Meeting its charge halfway, the Warden bashed it with his shield, knocking the monster back a few steps, and temporarily stunning it. Alistair then paused to give Ser Jory the opportunity to engage it. The Warden expected the knight to be somewhat cautious. Redcliffe knights were some of the steadiest men in service but Ser Jory, while not exactly cowardly, was far more timid than Alistair would have liked. Still, darkspawn were not ordinary foes. Certainly they were a very far cry from opponents met in a practice yard or at a tournament and, depending on which Warden asked, it took a certain type of courage – or crazy – to face them. Just as before, arrows hummed around the two warriors as they moved to attack the monster. To Alistair's surprise he glimpsed one shaft streaking wide of his current opposition. He thought it was some terrible blunder until he saw the arrow bury itself in the throat of a second darkspawn unexpectedly emerging from behind the thick greenery overtaking a ruined column nearby. Recognizing the fletching, his admiration for Dalish archery abruptly turned into alarm when the enraged monster completely bypassed him and the knight and headed straight for the archers. Daveth's arrows were covering Ser Jory who seemed to have gotten a handle on his fear so Alistair wheeled around and chased after the second creature. As he rushed to engage the darkspawn, he saw Kaslyn coolly shoot another barb into the monster's neck. Black blood sprayed but the choking darkspawn maintained its charge. Kaslyn started to reach for another arrow but the monster suddenly loomed above her. Alistair's breath caught – Duncan was going to kill him for sure for losing a recruit – then his eyes widened in disbelief. Kaslyn did something and the darkspawn came to a halt, shaking its head with some confusion. This momentary hesitation was all the Dalish needed. Grabbing an arrow in its neck, she jerked it out, rammed the projectile deeply into the monster's milky eye, twisted it, and yanked it back out. Still holding the shaft of the arrow, she promptly pulled it against the bowstring and fired it up into the creature's throat under its jaw where the point sprouted from the top of its head. The two darkspawn bodies hit the ground simultaneously. Before Alistair could comment, something flew over his head, just missing him. Ducking instinctively, he quickly spun around to see more arrows coming at them from a rise just visible past the edge of the brushy ruins. It turned out that Kaslyn's assessment had been correct. Three more darkspawn stood on the hill ahead and they all appeared to be archers. Fortunately, the Warden was allied with his own. As two of the recruits instantly returned the unfriendly fire, he and the knight rushed to engage the rest of their foes.

Alistair smashed the first one with his shield, knocking it completely off balance and back into the second darkspawn while Ser Jory brought his greatsword up and around his head for a broad sweep. As the knight's blade cut deeply into the monster in front of him, Alistair noticed the absence of archery support. The Warden glanced about to check on the others and spotted Daveth and Kaslyn using the warriors as a distraction to change their own positions for a better line of fire. Alistair grunted as a heavy mace impacted his shield, sending a shockwave up his arm, and reminding him he had his own immediate concerns. Ser Jory's greatsword did impressive damage but it was not a terribly fast weapon. Alistair's longsword managed nearly two cuts for every one of the knight's blows. Ser Jory was skilled with his chosen weapon, however, and made virtually every available portion of his enormous blade inflict some sort of damage, either from short, quick strikes with the heavy pommel or powerful sweeps with the large, balanced blade. The third darkspawn fell and the warriors moved on to the next. Arrows were already sticking out of the fourth creature's neck and chest, and black blood was pouring down its front. Feinting left, Alistair swung his blade back to the right and beheaded it before engaging the fifth and final opponent. Unexpectedly thrusting the edge of his shield forward, he caught the darkspawn under the chin. There was a crunching noise and the creature momentarily staggered in place, gurgling for air. Before either warrior could act, a Dalish arrow skimmed by Alistair's shoulder and buried itself nearly to the fletching in the monster's eye. It convulsed once then dropped dead to the ground.

Alistair turned and regarded the recruits. Daveth and Kaslyn, the distant archers, were as unscathed as when they had emerged from the fort that morning. He and the knight were spattered with the blood of their opponents but, thankfully, everyone was in one piece. Ser Jory and Daveth were somewhat wide-eyed and still breathing rapidly. This was the first time the knight or the cut-purse had ever encountered darkspawn and after a hesitant start for the knight, they had acquitted themselves respectably. The Dalish appeared unruffled but then he recalled she had previously faced the creatures. Alistair cautioned Ser Jory to clean the darkspawn blood completely from his blade before putting it away and demonstrated by carefully wiping his own longsword spotless on the rags of the darkspawn. It was a gift from Duncan, this blade of the Grey Wardens marked with the stamp of the griffon upon its pommel, and Alistair was quite proud of it.

After advising Daveth to leave any tainted arrows, Kaslyn gestured to the darkspawn lying at their feet and said, "Those are genlocks, Ser Jory." She looked at the Warden curiously and asked, "What kind were those bigger ones that charged us?"

Alistair took a breath and explained, "They're called hurlocks. They're a lot stronger and tougher than the genlocks and often make up the heavy infantry of the darkspawn army. One berserk hurlock is usually a match for several warriors at once."

She wrinkled her nose briefly before turning and moving back towards the tree line for the first two bodies. Daveth watched her trot away then looked around before searching the corpses of the three genlocks. Ser Jory appeared revolted by such actions but Alistair understood even if he did not always care to do the deed himself. Darkspawn were foul, evil creatures and fighting them was bad enough without the thought of what sorts of things they might deem worthy to carry on themselves. Still, it could be surprising what could be found.

Kaslyn soon returned and, holding up a vial full of a dark liquid, asked, "Does it matter what kind of darkspawn the blood comes from?"

Alistair shook his head. He was curious how she had acquired the sample – not that it really mattered in her case. Before he could ask, however, Daveth did it for him.

"Say," the cut-purse arched an eyebrow at the Dalish, "How did you manage to get some of that without getting tainted anyway? Did you scoop it off the ground?"

Kaslyn shook her head. She considered the other carcasses present then pointed to one still mostly intact. Following her instructions, Daveth carefully extracted enough of the darkspawn's black-red blood to fill his vial. Cautiously keeping his fingers unstained, he capped the flask tightly. He wiped it in a clean patch of nearby grass just to be certain there was no excess before holding the small bottle up to look at it. The blood hissed and bubbled ominously inside the container. "Two down, one to go, eh?" He asked, smirking at the others. "Heh, sure hope this little vial can hold this stuff."

"That's why I have extras," Alistair admitted. No sooner had the rogue tucked his vial away than the three darkspawn corpses abruptly dissolved into bloody ooze, leaving only the armor, accouterments, and a few of the larger bones, including the skulls and parts of a pelvis or two.

"Maker's breath," Ser Jory gasped, as startled as Daveth, "Is that normal?"

Alistair nodded, "It's not uncommon. Apparently it has something to do with the taint. Oddly enough, they stop being infectious at that point."

The few coppers, poultices, and other items taken from the corpses secured, everyone agreed they were ready to resume the search for Missionary Rigby and his cache. With the Dalish back in the lead they descended the short bluff and Kaslyn took them down the nearby gulch where they could move unseen and the walls on either side were too close to allow for an easy ambush. By going as far south as they could, she intended they would find out how 'deep' this valley was and their eventual turn northward would allow the wind to carry any warning scents in her direction. Ser Jory excitedly pointed out the tumbled tree they glimpsed spanning the gully ahead and informed them that the improvised bridge was yet another clue in Missionary Rigby's letter to his son. As they drew closer to the fallen trunk, the knight's enthusiasm quickly waned as they noticed what was dangling beneath it. The bodies of three soldiers, hands tied behind them, had been strung up by their necks with crude rope and left to swing in the light wind.

"Look there," Alistair commented, "Poor slobs. That just seems so excessive."

"Wh-why do you think they did that?" Ser Jory asked.

"It might be a message, or warning, or a mark of territory," Kaslyn suggested quietly, "Or they might just be completely evil monsters." She looked around uneasily but there was nothing else suspicious to be seen in the gulch.

"Shouldn't we…cut them down?" Ser Jory inquired.

"And do what with them, ser knight?" Daveth asked impatiently. "Carry them along with us until we can throw them at the next group of darkspawn?"

Ser Jory scowled. An argument appeared imminent until Alistair deliberately stepped between the two men and followed the Dalish. She had left them all behind.

Really, Kaslyn thought with some exasperation as she continued to traverse the ravine, if they were going to have to attend every single body they came across, they would be here until the next Blight started. Not for the first time, she wondered why her ancestors had called them 'shems' when it was obvious some humans were not very 'quick' at all. She was in no particular hurry to loot the Chantry man's supplies but the knight really needed to get a grip on his nerve. She paused and sighed deeply through her nose. Not all humans were the same, she reminded herself, and refocused back on their task. Stopping to examine some roots that twisted down the steeper side of the gully, she tried to determine if they would hold the heavier men. When the Warden and the other recruits caught up to her, she suggested they exit there instead of predictably following the ravine any further. The men agreed and Alistair produced a coil of rope from his pack.

Like a squirrel scampering up a tree, the Dalish swiftly climbed the exposed roots and disappeared over the upper edge. After a minute or two, the rope reappeared with one end tied above somewhere. Alistair checked, found the line was solid, and stepped back, indicating for the others to proceed. Daveth glanced at the other two men then scrambled quickly up to the cliff and vanished. Ser Jory gulped nervously and Alistair let him go next. It was plain the knight had not climbed often but with much grunting and effort, he managed to reach the top. Alistair waited until the knight was clear then hauled himself up the rope nearly as easily as the rogue had.

When he was close enough, both Daveth and Ser Jory gave him a hand up to his feet. He looked around and saw that the Dalish had tied the other end of the rope around a large, weathered column but there was no sign of her. Daveth caught the glance and smirked, "Heh, don't worry about Kaslyn. After I got up here, she went to make sure we weren't about to be ambushed."

Alistair nodded in appreciation but before he could comment, however, the Dalish reappeared. Seeing they were all regrouped, she casually tugged one end of the knot securing the rope to the stone and the line slipped free. Wordlessly, she quickly looped it back up, tied it off, and handed it back to Alistair. Turning to the knight, she asked, "What was the next landmark mentioned in that letter, Ser Jory?"

"It says to pass a submerged tower on the right," he replied, checking the missive.

Kaslyn nodded and said, "I think I know which way to go then."

"Listen," Alistair spoke up hastily. He hesitated, not knowing exactly how to get across what he felt needed saying, but impulsively continued. "It's probably not a good idea to disappear alone like that." He felt a grin pull at his mouth as he added, "There _are_ monsters out here, you know." He saw her look at him for a moment before acknowledging her understanding. At least he thought that was the response.

The Warden's warning reminded the Dalish again that she was not with men experienced with wilderness conditions. It was standard practice that if the rest of the group was involved in a task – like climbing a rope – someone would scout the area to make certain it was secure while the others were engaged. Fortunately, no one had been waiting in ambush nor had any traps been laid here or nearby where the gully surfaced. Seeing everyone was ready to continue, Kaslyn led them south towards a pond where the remains of what might have been a tall tower leaned out of the water. Following the letter's instructions read by the knight, she skirted to the left of it so it passed on their right.

A few minutes later, they located the marker of a soaring arch. It looked as though there had once been several in a row like an arcade of some sort, but now there was only one span that had not yet crashed into the ground below. Kaslyn paused briefly near the slender ruin and reached out to barely brush the overgrown stone with her fingers. Alistair, not far behind her, caught a hushed murmur, "Time and decay take their toll, don't they, lethallin?" As though she could feel his eyes on her, she quickly moved away from the ruin and continued.

Ser Jory was growing eager again and after passing a tall, oval stone, they eventually came across a series of crumbling columns. The worn pillars marched across yet another small lake and between those and another dense wall of reeds was a path of large, smooth boulders that looked woven together by thick, heavy roots. Kaslyn hesitated again and stiffened before asking them over her shoulder to stop and be still. She raised her head, tilted it slightly, and then warily turned partway around to speak to them.

"There's a wolf den ahead," she quietly reported. Considering them momentarily, her features brightened as she looked at the Warden, "Say, Alistair, would you mind if I borrowed your shield for a few minutes?"

"Um, no?" Alistair replied quizzically. He started to pull it off of his shoulder and asked, "Would you mind if I ask why?" Kaslyn grinned and he was suddenly struck by the unexpected mischief he saw. An answering smile unconsciously tugging at his mouth, he held out the shield.

"Well, I don't think we should kill animals for no good reason," she replied. "So I have a plan." Noticing the Chantry sun emblazoned on the shield, she briefly wrinkled her nose. He released the other strap and it promptly dropped towards the ground before she quickly compensated for the unexpected weight. Putting her arm through the leather handles, it dangled awkwardly – clearly too large for her to properly wield. She indicated the thickly overgrown row of ruined columns behind them and said, "If you all will wait over there – and preferable as out of sight as you can get – I'll see if I can't spook these wolves away for a little while."

"Why go to all this trouble?" Ser Jory wanted to know impatiently.

Kaslyn gestured with her chin across the narrow, mossy path. "If you look, you can see the top half of two statues over there on the rise behind the tree and the rocks. I think that's the end of the missionary trail. There's a pack gathered up there but I see no reason to kill them all just because we want what's in the cache that should be there. After all," she pointed out, "this is their home, not ours."

"What if they attack you instead?" Alistair asked with some concern.

Kaslyn smirked, "Then I'll just scream and you can come get your shield." His expression did not change and her face grew serious as she explained, "I think that given the chance, they'll turn and run. That's why you all need to clear the end of this bridge. Unless you hear me actually call for help, stay there."

Reluctantly the men agreed to cooperate. Hoisting the wooden shield further up her arm, the Dalish darted off lightly across the stones. As the others left the end of the pathway for the neighboring bushes, Ser Jory muttered, "I do not like this. Why not simply slay the beasts and be done with them?"

"Just how thirsty is your blade, ser knight?" Daveth inquired sharply. He indicated the direction the elf disappeared and said, "I think the lady has a point. Save your edge for the darkspawn."

The knight turned to the Warden and quietly asked, "Do you really think she's right about there being wolves ahead?"

Somewhat surprised by the question, Alistair responded, "Why would she lie?"

Daveth snorted, "Ser knight thinks the Dalish regard treasure the same way he does."

Ser Jory frowned but before he could respond, they heard a strange thumping noise and a piercing caterwaul. In no time five wolves scrambled rapidly over the stones and past the hidden men. The animals' ears and tails were held low and their expressions looked decidedly disturbed. They quickly disappeared into the woods and after a few minutes, the men decided it was probably safe for them to cross the path. Reaching the small clearing on the other side, they discovered the Dalish crouching in front of a chest situated between two statues. She peered over her shoulder at their arrival, stood, and with a grateful smile returned Alistair's shield, none the worse for wear.

"So what's in the chest?" Daveth wanted to know without preamble.

"I don't know. The chief wolf was lying on top of it and I had to pick the lock," Kaslyn replied, "So let's find out." She pushed on the upper edge of the iron chest and the lid tipped open. Stepping back out of the way, she watched the warriors pull out and examine a finely-crafted, two-handed, Chasind flatblade, a grey iron chainmail shirt knit with chausses, and another letter.

Daveth again awkwardly read the note aloud. According to the message, and as Kaslyn had suspected, Rigby was unable to actually locate any of the Chasind folk, "possibly due to their fleeing the so-called 'darkspawn' rumored to be gathering in the Wilds". Alistair snorted and shook his head.

"So, now what?" Daveth asked. "This has to be the old bugger's meeting point but there's no sign of him."

"We have his goods," Ser Jory reminded them, "We should continue to search for Missionary Rigby."

"Well, he's not here either, is he?" Daveth asked.

Kaslyn chewed on her inner lip briefly before pointing out, "This is the place where he told his son to look for supplies but it's obviously not where the Chantry man camped." She looked at the Warden and suggested, "We still have to find more darkspawn blood …. We could continue to explore and just keep an eye out for this missionary."

Alistair considered their words and conceded they should continue to look for darkspawn. The statues stood atop a slight bluff, bordered by boulders on three sides, with the only easy way in or out of the area being across the root path. Kaslyn, again on point, arbitrarily decided to bear west when she got to the other side of the narrow bridge. They were soon passing between a rocky outcrop and another cattail-lined lake, where another ruined building was sinking, when suddenly a long, deep growl gurgled ominously from somewhere close by. As one the group froze and looked around cautiously.

"Tell me that was somebody's stomach," Kaslyn muttered quietly. She glanced about, drawing in deep breaths through her nose. Quickly sorting through the familiar scents of water, mud, stone, and greenery, she noted a familiar stink lingering very faintly in the air. She looked back towards the Warden.

Alistair returned her gaze and nodded slightly, "They're close," he murmured. His features were grim although one side of his mouth twitched upwards.

She had an idea and very quietly asked, "Daveth, are you stealthy?"

"If they can't see you, they can't kill you," the rogue responded and abruptly vanished from sight.

Without warning, Kaslyn stomped the ground in front of her, flushing a genlock into appearance. It promptly took a swipe at Alistair with a dagger. The Warden threw an arm up reflexively, grunting with the impact, but his bracer deflected the blow and he wasted no time grabbing his sword and shield. The monster was too close for Kaslyn to bring her bow into play so she started to put some distance between her and the darkspawn. Suddenly three more monsters appeared surrounding them. Snatching her two daggers from her back, Kaslyn immediately stunned the creature closest to her and moved to work her blades behind the first one on Alistair. The Warden quickly killed the active genlock between him and the hunter, and then turned to the incapacitated one.

Behind the quartet, two more darkspawn got clipped and temporarily knocked back by Ser Jory's greatsword as he swept the massive blade in a wide arc. Reappearing behind one of the genlocks on the knight, Daveth viciously sank one of his two daggers into the side of the creature's neck. It whirled on him unexpectedly, administering an abrupt boot below the belt for his effort, and Daveth was forced on the defensive as he struggled to recover. Its black blood gushing over its shoulder, the failing darkspawn staggered and continued to lash out wildly at him until it fell to the ground.

Noticing Daveth's trouble, Kaslyn swapped opponents, ducking past the knight's greatsword and behind his unhindered foe where she proceeded to drive her two knives into the weak points in the monster's back. Alistair and Daveth finished off the dazed genlock between them, and the Warden, already back-to-back with the knight, virtually pivoted in place to aid the other two recruits. By the time Daveth could straighten up fully and catch his breath, the fourth darkspawn lay dead with the others.

Daveth looked over at the Dalish with a smirk and asked, "Heh, 'somebody's stomach'?"

Kaslyn smiled. She hesitated before her eyes flickered over to the knight and she shrugged, "It was either that or Ser Jory's snoring."

"I do not snore," the knight insisted as the other men chuckled. They quickly stripped the monstrous corpses of anything useful and continued to follow the Dalish north-and-westward. As they travelled, Kaslyn occasionally paused to cut another swamp flower for the kennel master. She did not take every one she saw but figured if the man had one sick hound, he might have others and there was supposed to be another battle taking place soon which might mean even more. She also took available opportunities to snatch handfuls of any other useful plants and herbs she happened to see.

They were moving northward through a small forest, passing a huge lake on the left, when Kaslyn noticed the terrain changing again. Two, low cliffs rose on either side of the land ahead of them, creating a short but steep-walled ravine. A certain stench hit her nose and she automatically unclipped her bow. Emerging from the woods under a natural arch made up of one, mossy dead tree leaning onto another, she instantly spied the lone hurlock standing between the walls of the gulch ahead. She started to reach for an arrow from her quiver but hesitated. Something was wrong. The top of the right side of the ravine was bare rock but the slightly higher left side supported some bushes and a small grove of trees not far from the edge. Before she could say anything to the men catching up to her, Alistair cautioned them about the darkspawn's presence. The hurlock spotted them, yanking out a heavy blade in one hand and throwing its arms skyward with a challenging roar as it took one aggressive leap forward. Ser Jory noticed the obvious and, pulling his greatsword, rushed towards the monster waiting in front of him. Alistair seized his longsword and shield and quickly followed to back up the knight.

"Wait! It's a … trap…!" Kaslyn tried to warn them, but her urgency dropped before the last word. It was too late. The warriors ran past without apparently hearing her. She growled under her breath and shot a look at Daveth who was already drawing an arrow back on his bowstring. There was no time to explain and she hoped the rogue was paying attention. Kaslyn took off at a run for the left side of the ravine. Scrambling up the slope and following the ledge, she paused when she saw her suspicions confirmed at the sight of four genlocks about to fire arrows down at Alistair and Ser Jory. Kaslyn quickly put away her bow. One arrow from her would only elicit four times the response. She would have to get in too close for their bows to be useful and hope she either got lucky or someone else showed up before she was cut to pieces. Grabbing her daggers, she sped forward to do battle.

Alistair just missed whatever Kaslyn started to say as he hurried to help Ser Jory. Initially surprised she had abruptly drawn her bow, he suddenly sensed the darkspawn, and became puzzled when she lowered her weapon without even pulling an arrow. There was no time for him to question her actions, however. Hurlocks were tough to kill and the Warden knew Ser Jory would need help. Alistair was pleased to see the knight's confidence growing concerning the darkspawn. He had long looked up to the knights of Redcliffe and he wanted Ser Jory - as well as the other recruits - to perform well out here. The hurlock ducked the knight's first broad swing and retaliated with a slash across Ser Jory's midriff. Fortunately, the knight's chainmail withstood the blow but Alistair winced in sympathetic pain. Groaning with the impact, Ser Jory responded with a quick pommel jab into the monster's face, temporarily stunning it. Alistair took advantage of the distraction to bash his shield into the darkspawn's chest, knocking it away from the knight and giving Ser Jory time and space to ready another powerful sweep. An arrow sprouted from the chainmail of the hurlock's shoulder between its unfinished breastplate and arm. Unfortunately it was not the side wielding its sword although it still hampered the creature. Alistair, parrying the monster's rough blade with his own longsword and bringing his blade around for another strike, recognized the arrow's fletching and wondered why Kaslyn was not attacking. Originally somewhat skeptical of the rumors, their first fight with the wolves and subsequent skirmishes had completely solidified his belief in the legends of Dalish archery. He had never been in a fight in front of an archer with such uncanny accuracy until today. So where was it now, he wondered. Given the opening by Alistair's smashing shield, Ser Jory swung his greatsword again and caught the monster in the torso. The darkspawn's armor took most of the damage but the blade managed to hack part of its tattered mail away and it howled with rage as another arrow sank into its exposed gut. The hurlock turned its attention to the knight, and Alistair quickly pummeled it twice more with his shield.

The four genlock archers were lined up at the cliff edge which was useful for Kaslyn since that meant they were somewhat tightly grouped. She charged them; carefully keeping the first one between her and the rest. The first genlock noticed her approach and started to face her - which she had expected. Her intended target was the second or third genlock since she hoped if neither caught her, she might get in at least one opportunistic strike. The grass under her feet was slicker than she anticipated, however, and instead of stopping just past the first archer, she continued to slide with a half twist to the other end of the line. Genlock Archer Number Four never saw her coming. Deftly maintaining her balance, Kaslyn spun on her left foot and planted the other in the darkspawn's lower back, throwing it forward and completely off the ledge into the ravine. One horrible monster down, only three to go, she mused wryly for one happy instant. She continued her spin, reversing the knife in her right hand, and plunged the blade under the torso armor and into the kidney area of Genlock Archer Number Three. She yanked the blade loose and thrust her left dar'misu up to cut the drawn bowstring of darkspawn Number Two which staggered when the cord abruptly lashed it in the face. Twirling her reversed blade forward again, she brought it up and around just in time to parry the ugly bow darkspawn Number One swung at her like a club. Since Number One was currently the most mobile, Kaslyn kicked it below its belt to give it a distraction of its very own. The genlocks were still clustered fairly close together, so Kaslyn used their proximity to sweep both her knives out in a broad forward arc, striking all three of them at once. Her eye was as keen as her blades and black blood flew from all of the monsters. That got their attention. On the bright side, her opportunistic sarcasm pointed out, they weren't interested in waylaying the big, armored men down in the ravine anymore; Lucky me.

With the hurlock momentarily thrown off balance, Alistair was about to follow up with a stroke from his sword when he was startled by the sound of a meaty thud and a heavy groan behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and was shocked to see a genlock sprawled face down on the ground. Temporarily stunned, the monster slowly moved its arms to push itself to its feet. Daveth ran up, drawing his two daggers, and shouted, "She went left!" The rogue then turned his attention to aiding the knight by circling behind the enraged hurlock still focused on Ser Jory. Now that he was made aware of it, Alistair looked up and was surprised to glimpse the backs of three more darkspawn at the top of the ravine. It was a perfect ambush – or would have been. The Dalish had warned them that the darkspawn travelled in groups of five and he realized who must be distracting the others. Alistair leaped over to the rapidly recovering genlock and quickly killed it. With the hurlock beginning to reel under the combined assaults of the knight and the cut-purse, the Warden immediately started running back for the slope leading to the top of the ravine. As bad as one hurlock was, he knew a new recruit would be easily overwhelmed attempting to handle three genlocks alone. Heart thudding fearfully in his chest, he got to the top of the rise and his breath stopped. The Dalish was a whirlwind of graceful motion between all the remaining darkspawn. Utilizing her two curved daggers as well as every portion of her body, the petite elf fought with a swift, effortless agility; every attack and defense leading smoothly into each other. To his astonishment, she looked to have the situation surprisingly well in hand. Duncan had not been exaggerating when he said she could fight!

Dodging the attempted swipe of Number One's newly-drawn daggers, Kaslyn ducked to the ground and spun with one outstretched foot to sweep the legs out from under kidney-stabbed Number Three. She jumped up then sidestepped to twirl face-lashed Number Two between her and Number One. With a quick dagger thrust into its neck, she killed Number Two before it could recover. As it started to slide to the ground, choking out its last breath, she shoved the knife out of the wound, opening its neck even further and flinging the black blood into the eyes of Number One while Number Three kicked out at her legs. She adroitly leaped the ground attack but was caught by a wild swing from Number One. Lashing out blindly, the genlock and had gotten lucky and tagged her right side with a backswing. Kaslyn had been fortunate as well and was hit by the back of its fist instead of cut by the blade on the other end of its grip. She went with the sideways force of the blow to avoid being knocked off the edge behind her but she landed on the body of Number Two and stumbled before she could regain her balance. Number Three was already scrambling to its feet. Number One managed to wipe its eyes clear enough to fix on her then snarled and lunged at her with its heavy daggers. Still unsteady from the awkward landing, Kaslyn tried to bring her dar'misus up in time.

Suddenly the darkspawn blades were diverted by a heavy wooden kite shield slamming into the side of the genlock. "Oh, no you don't!" Alistair's voice announced. With wide eyes, Kaslyn twisted to watch the daggers thrust narrowly to the right of her chest instead of through it. She stayed low so the Warden could freely swing his longsword over her head to bury it in the shoulder of Number One. Distracted by the unexpected appearance of the warrior, Number Three half turned when Number One was knocked past the Dalish. Kaslyn did not waste the opportunity and slashed the back of Number Three's knees. It dropped to the ground again but before it could make a grab for the passing Warden, Kaslyn dove forward to stab it in the back of the neck, severing its spine. She looked up in time to see Alistair drag his sword down out of the darkspawn's shoulder wound. He pulled the blade back to the right to cut through the crude splintmail across the genlock's chest then thrust the point through the opening into its heart and out the back.

Alistair planted one booted foot on the monster to shove it off of his blade and watched it fall to the ground. He glanced around quickly, looking for his charges. Kaslyn was kneeling over the genlocks, breathing hard, and watching the action below. Down in the gully, the hurlock uttered one last yowl before Ser Jory's great blade swept its head from its neck.

Turning back to clean her knives meticulously, Kaslyn observed drolly, "You were right, Alistair. There _are_ monsters out here." She had not been forced to go all out like that in some time. In a way it was good to know she still could but it would have been so much easier had her body not already been contending with the taint as well. She felt slower and clumsier than she should have been and she shouldn't have been this winded. Despite the unaccustomed effort, she was actually somewhat pleased. Her combat skills had obviously improved. She had managed to distract four and actually kill two darkspawn by herself this time. Granted, she'd had some help on her kills but she had not been alone the first time she'd faced such monsters either. As her breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, she put away her dar'misus then rifled the bodies to discover some poisonous deathroot extract and a couple of potions. One was a health potion but she frowned when she realized the other was a lyrium potion.

Grinning at her remark and with the first stirrings of cautious relief, Alistair called, "Is everyone all right?" He swiftly looked over the Dalish who was spattered with some dark red blood but otherwise appeared miraculously unhurt. Gazing over the edge of the bluff, he could see that Daveth was checking the hurlock's corpse while Ser Jory carefully cleaned the blade of his greatsword. The rogue glanced up and waved to the Warden to let him know they were fine. Alistair signaled acknowledgement and gradually allowed himself to relax.

Kaslyn nodded as she finally got to her feet, "Thanks to good timing on your part." She peered over the edge of the drop at the men below before looking sharply back at him. "Are you okay?"

Alistair wiped his blade clean and chuckled, "Thanks to good timing on your part."

They finished looting the bodies and rejoined the others at the far end of the ravine. Ser Jory had managed to extract his vial of darkspawn blood while Kaslyn had also filled another bottle. They only needed three vials but agreed that acquiring extras in case any of them got broken was a sound idea. After everyone was ready to go, Kaslyn lead them further north alongside the lake. Eventually she began to detect more monsters as well as faint traces of a human scent when the Warden alerted them to darkspawn nearby. Falling back into their previous pattern, the two warriors and two archers quickly dispatched five genlocks and another hurlock. Amid more copper coins, two dark red garnets were also liberated from the brutes. Before their abrupt demise, the monsters had clearly been in the process of wrecking a tidy little camp. Near the shore of the lake where a corner was formed by several, broad columns crossing paths, a large chest separated two personal tents. A pair of deerskins had been laid out as seating on the ground in front of them and a rabbit hide was being stretched on a frame nearby. Part of the ground cover before the skins had been scraped clear to the dirt and several stones were laid in a circle to contain the cold remains of a small campfire. One tent sheltered roughly-tossed bedding while the other had evidently been used for storage and had suffered the prolonged attentions of the monsters. Several items had been flung onto the ground outside the torn supply tent, including two crates which had been smashed open and their contents scattered.

Although darkspawn stench thickly overlaid everything here, Kaslyn could detect hints of human habitation as well and suggested to the others, "This might be where the missionary camped."

Daveth attempted to open the sturdy chest but the lock proved beyond his skills. With a grin he gestured in a polite fashion for Kaslyn to take a look. In a matter of moments, the lock was sprung and she left it to him. Kaslyn then turned her attention to the fire circle to see if she could determine how long it had been since it was lit.

Catching Daveth rooting around inside the chest, Ser Jory admonished, "Those could be Missionary Rigby's personal belongings!"

"Which the darkspawn were about to take for themselves," Daveth answered nonchalantly as he continued.

"It's clearly not smart for anyone to be out here alone," Alistair said, "But still …."

"If we go ahead and collect his things," Kaslyn offered, glancing elsewhere around the camp, "when we find him, we won't have to come all the way back here before we can escort him to Ostagar."

"And if we do not find him, we will have left a man stranded in the wilderness with no supplies whatsoever," Ser Jory retorted.

"Then I guess that means he'll be more inclined to get back to the fort," Daveth replied. From the chest he pulled out a small bag of money, a necklace, and a little book. The necklace appeared to be no more than a lump of unfired clay in the shape of a bird hanging on a leather strap. Noticing the birds embossed into the leathers the Dalish wore, he presented the little mud idol to her with a flourish. Kaslyn gave him a curious look and thanked him. Although the clay felt strangely warm in her hand, she put it away in her pack. She wasn't about to trade her father's heirloom necklace for that lumpy thing, enchanted or not.

The field journal confirmed this was Missionary Rigby's camp and Ser Jory decided to scan the notes in the hopes there might be some indication which direction the Chantry man had sought the Chasind. Still reading, he eventually spoke up, "Here now, Missionary Rigby has apparently deciphered that the wilder folk have hidden markers around the Wilds. According to this they indicate trails and places of interest or possibly warnings." He paused, then his eyebrows arched and he said, "He thinks the signs may even point to a location used for secret storage among the Chasind." He looked around at the others and added, "There's supposed to be one of these signs near this very camp. Shall we have a look?"

Daveth and Kaslyn exchanged a fleeting look. Apparently they were thinking the same thing. Although the knight had been reluctant to disturb the missionary's belongings, he evidently had no qualms about seeking out the goods of the wilder folk. They were just as curious, however, and everyone joined in a quick search of the area. Underneath a tilted tree leaning against a ruined arch just outside of the camp, the Dalish discovered a small, innocuous pile of rocks with a couple of darker stones and a pair of small twigs sticking out of it. Now that she had some idea it might mean something, she thought it could be an odd little map.

"Hmm, what's this?" Ser Jory asked excitedly when she called his attention to it.

According to the field journal, this tiny marker suggested two others; one they had passed in the southeast and another that lay further to the northeast of where they currently stood. Willing to again look for materials instead of monsters, the group decided to follow the marks. Privately keen to simply ascertain if they were reading these clever signs correctly, Kaslyn led them northeast. Finding the next marker on a small hill, they continued to trace the Chasind trail signs eastward through the Wilds.

The sun was at or near the midpoint of the day and found them in a wood on the eastern side of the ravine where the three soldiers had been hung. Alistair was about to suggest a stop for lunch and a rest when he felt an unmistakable pull in his chest. Emerging from the trees, they immediately spotted the darkspawn across a shallow pool. Two hurlocks were descending eastward from the west-facing cliff when they simultaneously noticed the group and promptly attacked. Soon two genlocks joined the fray. Expecting at least five darkspawn, the sudden appearance of the last rogue genlock was no surprise and the monsters were eliminated fairly quickly. Alistair was going to call a halt when he realized the faintly creepy tug in his chest had not ceased. Kaslyn's head suddenly snapped around to look further east. On another bluff not too distant from where they stood, the Warden could just make out some sort of scuffle taking place. Before he could warn the recruits about more darkspawn, the Dalish took off for the next cliff.

Just below the top of the rise, a hurlock was being attacked by a pack of wolves while a nearby genlock archer picked off the animals focused on the larger darkspawn. As she watched angrily, the hurlock impaled a leaping wolf on its sword, killing it, and slinging it into one of its mates. Kaslyn wasted no time and as soon as she was in range, she started firing arrows at the besieged darkspawn. Already surrounded by five, angry wolves, the surprised hurlock quickly died. She and the rest of the pack automatically turned their assault towards the genlock archer. The darkspawn managed to shoot one more wolf dead before the animals and Kaslyn's shafts finished it off. Pausing to warily eye the Dalish, the surviving wolves turned and fled the area.

The others had not been idle all this time. Kaslyn's sudden sprint had been too fast for the three genlocks who abruptly appeared surrounding the Warden and the other recruits. With the support of Dalish accuracy from outside the darkspawn triangle, the rest of the monsters were quickly eliminated. After cleaning their weapons, the group returned to investigate the western height. At the top of the cliff were a few dense bushes, a large tree, and another trail sign. Not far from the tree they discovered a small campsite including the cold remains of a campfire, a locked chest, and three wooden crates quickly identified as similar to those left scattered around the king's supply wagons at the massacre site. Near the edge of the cliff on the outskirts of the camp they also found what appeared to be some sort of long, tall, narrow cage, the bottom of which was fixed into the ground. Despite the darkspawn stink everywhere, Kaslyn could sense that this had originally been another human camp and wondered if it had belonged to the three soldiers hanging from the tree bridge not so very far from where they stood. After clearing anything useful, they turned their attentions to the second bluff, looting the dead monsters as they passed, and collecting two more vials of darkspawn blood to bring their collective total to six. Among a few more copper coins and an acid flask, another pair of lyrium potions was also discovered. Neither Daveth nor Ser Jory evidently thought anything about them but Alistair caught the uneasy expression on Kaslyn's face. When he asked what was troubling her, she quietly pointed out that only mages used such potions and his expression briefly mirrored hers.

At the pinnacle of the precipice overlooking vast sections of the eastern Wilds stood the ruined remains of what looked like a small, octagonal, observation platform with a few eroded columns still bordering the cliff side. Here they discovered the bodies of four more humans. Three men dressed in leather armor were sprawled in a semicircle a short distance from another man wearing the distinctive robes of a Chantry priest. The Dalish said nothing but the scent of the Chantry man's body matched the faint traces she had picked up at the far western campsite. While Kaslyn and Alistair salvaged a reasonably intact splintmail jerkin from a nearby pack, Daveth searched the priest's corpse and discovered one more note. He passed it to Ser Jory who found it to be Rigby's last will and testament. As both the hunter and the rogue had discreetly surmised, the elder missionary had not survived his expedition into the wilderness. The will mentioned a sealed lockbox buried in the missionary's camp located in a Tevinter ruin in the western reaches of the Wilds and requested that this item be delivered to his wife Jetta in Redcliffe.

"That means another trip back to that camp we found on the opposite side of the valley, doesn't it?" Daveth asked.

"We still have more Chasind signs to find and decipher," Ser Jory pointed out. "If we're reading them properly, there should be one or two more in that direction."

Alistair and Ser Jory obviously approved recovering the lockbox and Kaslyn was not averse to finding the memento. Whatever was inside was all that this woman 'Jetta' was going to have left of both her husband and her son, she knew. Daveth was also willing but Kaslyn wasn't sure if he was being altruistic or merely aiming to retrieve the contents.

"Before we do that," Alistair ventured, "How about we take a short break?" He grinned around at them all, "I don't know about any of you, but I could use a bit of a rest and I'm starving." Both Ser Jory and Daveth readily endorsed a respite but Alistair was most concerned about Kaslyn. He wasn't completely certain but she looked somewhat paler than when they had started out that morning and seemed to be a bit frayed around the edges.

"Not right here," the Dalish immediately demurred.

"Why not?" Ser Jory inquired. He gestured around them, "We will be able to see everything for hundreds of yards in every direction."

Kaslyn replied, "Aside from the fact there are dead bodies right here, 'everything for hundreds of yards' around will be able to see us, too."

Unable to effectively argue with that logic, the men agreed they needed to find a more suitable place to take a break. The knight then encouraged them to keep their eyes open for another trail sign. He had no sooner spoken than Daveth whistled from nearby and cheerfully called, "Lookie here!"

Ser Jory had just confirmed his own earlier suggestion that there were more markers to find in the direction of Rigby's camp when they suddenly heard another deep, gurgling snarl. Alistair hissed a warning. Kaslyn shot a look at Daveth who promptly drew his knives and disappeared from sight. She tested the air but heard the soft sound of squelching mud to her left and lashed out with her quickly-drawn dagger just as a genlock appeared. Two more followed the first and all three were quickly dispatched. After looting some coppers and a health poultice, the group left the ruin to the dead and soon found a pleasant spot with a few trees next to a lake to take a rest. Taking the time to wash away some of the stains of battle, they each found a comfortable seat against a tree trunk and brought out their rations for lunch.

Alistair kept a surreptitious eye on Kaslyn and was interested to note when she sprinkled some herbs into a cup of water and let it sit before she joined them at the lake's edge to get cleaned up. Once she was refreshed, she took up the drink, paused for a moment, and then nonchalantly gulped it down. After a mighty grimace, she refilled her cup and settled down not far from the others with a small sort of biscuit and some jerky. Alistair was somewhat relieved. He had been anxious he might have to coax her to eat again but apparently that would not be necessary this time. With no more hesitation, he dug into his own food.

Kaslyn did not like having to swallow more medicine but her neck and shoulders had begun to ache as she picked off the hurlocks descending the hill. The following scuffles with the darkspawn taunting the wolves and the genlocks had only served to emphasize that this pain would not be ignored nor was it going away anytime soon. Apparently neither was the darkspawn, she mused, which were also distressingly smart enough to echo nearly any skill any of them could do. Of course, what she was able to do was becoming increasingly limited, she reflected sourly. Her aches were becoming more intense and more frequent and, much as she hated to admit it even to herself, she welcomed this chance to rest for a while. It seemed to be taking her longer to notice things around her, harder to think, and combat was definitely becoming more challenging even if it felt like the only time she could react fairly normally. Absently putting away her food after only a few bites, she remained quiet and absorbed in her own thoughts until she was startled out of them when Daveth and Ser Jory got to their feet. She looked around quickly but Alistair remained relaxed where he sat and she was annoyed and embarrassed to belatedly realize that the other two men were apparently going to answer the call of nature. She had completely missed any conversation they had been having. She caught Alistair eyeing her with some veiled concern and dropped her gaze, unwilling to talk about what she had been thinking. Noting movement, her downcast eyes were attracted to his fidgeting fingers. He was absentmindedly using his thumb to spin a gold ring on his left forefinger back and forth. It appeared to be set with a cast rune with the surface worn by a preoccupied thumb. Diverted from her problems by her curiosity, she raised her chin in his direction and softly asked, "What's that?"

Startled, he looked at her blankly for a moment before a couple of her fingers indicated his own. Glancing at his hand, he smiled and replied with equal quiet, "Oh, this is just something I found after an early skirmish with the darkspawn – during my own Joining preparations as a matter of fact," he added.

"Interesting," Kaslyn responded. She hesitated then held up her own left hand to show him the willow ring she wore there on her middle finger and shared, "This was my inheritance from the Keeper when I left my clan."

It was his turn to nod and he murmured, "It's beautiful." He paused then asked, "How do you know when the darkspawn are near? Can you … feel them or is it…?"

Kaslyn looked at him with some surprise and replied nonchalantly, "Dalish senses are sharper than humans'. I can see them a long way off, I can hear the stealthy ones if they're close enough, and I can smell them. How far depends on whether or not they're upwind, of course …." She suddenly grinned at him, "Let me just tell you, Warden, death does _not_ improve their stink."

He chuckled and responded, "I'm sure it doesn't! I can't imagine what would." Not that Kaslyn spoke excessively but he had noticed she seemed preoccupied while he, Daveth, and Ser Jory chatted over lunch. While the other recruits grew more social as they became more comfortable and confident with each other, Kaslyn had been increasingly quiet and withdrawn and that was starting to worry him. He had been a little disturbed to realize she didn't always need him to tell her when the darkspawn were close but he couldn't read her well enough to tell if she might be beginning to hear the darkspawn song in her mind. The itch in his chest didn't feel any more intense. If she was still able to joke, maybe her taint wasn't as far along as he feared. He certainly hoped it wasn't. It would mean she had little time left.

Kaslyn smiled at his laughter but the other two men returned before she could say anything else. It suddenly occurred to her to wonder if Alistair could sense the taint in her the way Duncan was able. If so, she was grateful he hadn't said anything, and if not, well, there wasn't any point in bringing it up now. She had seen the way sick people were treated and that sort of aversion would not help any of them this far out in the Wilds.

When everyone was ready, they set off again. Kaslyn led them in a broad arc according to the trail signs they were following and came back around to the ruins sheltering Rigby's camp. Ser Jory read the will again and emphasized that the lockbox they needed to find was supposed to be buried somewhere in the campsite. Kaslyn surveyed the location overall while the men looked under the chest and the skins stretched on the ground. Daveth even went so far as to check beneath the two tents as best he could, but there was no sign of anything having been buried anywhere in the area.

"Perhaps Missionary Rigby took his box with him?" Ser Jory suggested with exasperation. "Perhaps he meant to leave it here somewhere but never managed to do so?"

"The old bugger didn't have anything like that when we found him," Daveth pointed out, "Maybe the darkspawn already got it."

"We know the darkspawn here didn't have it," Alistair commented, "neither did those we encountered near the missionary's remains."

"Well, it's clearly not here either," the knight sighed.

"I think that's the point," Kaslyn murmured and crouched next to the ring of stones circling the dead fire. She hadn't thought much of the missionary's intent to spread the Chant of Light to the Chasind, or of his ambiguous directions through the Wilds to the cache left for his son, but she was ready to be impressed with this if her suspicion turned out to be correct. There was only one place in the camp where something could have been buried without being noticeable. Kaslyn drew out one of her dar-misus and began sinking it through the ashes of the dead fire into the dirt underneath. On her third try, her effort was rewarded when she felt the point of the blade grate on something unusual well below the surface. Clearing some of the debris, she rummaged around in the rubble to unearth Rigby's secret box. Wrapped in a piece of rough cloth, the lockbox turned out to be made of hammered iron and bronze and had been buried deep enough to prevent the campfire above from damaging the wax sealing the seam of the lid.

"Well? Let's open it and see what he wanted his wife to have!" Daveth urged eagerly.

"Absolutely not!" Ser Jory instantly objected. "The man's last will specifically requests that the lockbox be delivered to his wife in its sealed condition. It is the final wish of a dead man!" The two men glared at each other before once again turning their gazes to the others. Alistair and Kaslyn exchanged glances. To Daveth's surprise, the Dalish sided with the knight.

"It's the last thing he wanted her to have," she quietly explained. "Maybe she watched him close it, I don't know, but she should at least have the reassurance that whatever he meant for her was not tampered with by those who delivered it." Privately, she didn't think it would take all that much to open it, as long as the stamp pressed in on one side was carefully removed and replaced. She meant what she said, however.

"You didn't seem to have that opinion when we were hunting for the missionary's supply dump," Daveth accused peevishly.

Kaslyn frowned at him and rejoined, "The son those supplies were meant for was already dead – or did you miss that part? I also said that if we found those goods, we would offer them back to the father if he was still alive. He wasn't, and his last request is only that this one, small box be returned in its original state. Whatever's in there does not belong to us but to his wife, who – as far as we know right now – is still alive somewhere in Redcliffe. The names have changed but the decision hasn't."

"Redcliffe's a lot further off than somewhere here in the Wilds," Daveth pointed out.

"That doesn't matter in the slightest," Kaslyn countered, "Whatever's in that box belongs to Jetta. Period."

Seeing he wasn't about to bully the Dalish into changing her mind, Daveth instead tried to wheedle, "Aw, come on! Let's see what the old man left her! What if it turns out to be something valuable? She'll never know we took a look at it!"

"No," Kaslyn stood firm, before either of the other two men could speak. "It should be returned just like it is so she recognizes it's really from him. If she doesn't believe that or we never give it to her, she'll never accept what happened to her husband or son and that's worse than knowing they're dead." Her throat thickened at her final words but she surreptitiously clenched her teeth and swallowed. She would have given a lot to know what happened to Tamlen but that was not meant to be and she would not do that to anyone else if she could help it.

Daveth opened his mouth to argue further but before he could, Alistair spoke up, "Look, we've got enough darkspawn blood for everyone. We've found Missionary Rigby, his son, and their goods. If no one has any objections, why don't we start searching for the Grey Warden archive?" He took out the map he had been given and indicated an area in an adjacent, southeastern fen. "According to Duncan, the ruin with the sealed chest should be located here somewhere."

Latching onto his suggestion, Kaslyn stowed the box in her pack before examining the chart. "This southern passage apparently connects to the eastern Wilds," she indicated a spot on the map. "The trail signs are pointing south, too, so maybe we can still find the Chasind storage along the way to the archive."

Seeing he was not going to win, Daveth wisely let the subject of the lockbox drop and agreed with Ser Jory that the day was getting on in age and they should get moving. Retracing their steps once more, the group started southward. According to Alistair's map, the pass they were headed for was not located between two cliffs but was a peninsula, bracketed by lakes and marshes, that stretched southeast before abruptly turning northeast a short ways and ending. Now that they were in the actual area, they found that massive ruins also threaded around and through the swamps here, further restricting their course. Kaslyn stopped at the head of the cape when they came across something other than the ubiquitous ruins. Guarding the path onto the narrow peninsula was a strange-looking marker braced in front of a stand of trees they were about to pass through. A jagged crescent open to the sky had been lashed to a cluster of wooden boards that served as a wide supporting base.

"Maker's breath!" Ser Jory commented, "What is that thing? Is it some sort of wilder folk device?"

"No," Alistair answered darkly, "That was made by darkspawn. Stay sharp."

They came across a second jagged semicircle once they had threaded the small wood. This one was propped against what was left of a thick stone column. A few more of the same worn pillars marched off for a short distance but what attracted their attention past the sign were the two soldiers' bodies hanging from a crumbling arch still spanning two supports. A third darkspawn marker was visible three columns past where the corpses were left to swing in the breeze. Sobered by the sights, the group continued following the trail of solid ground.

Suddenly Alistair advised, "Darkspawn ahead."

Drawing their weapons, they proceeded cautiously with Kaslyn still in the lead. Dry land was considerably limited here and no one wanted to risk getting mired in thick mud with vicious monsters in the vicinity. The Dalish's path curved through more broad, tumbledown pillars and suddenly a wooden bridge came into view at the southernmost bend of the peninsula. The passage just above the dark water was not empty, however. A strange-looking hurlock screeched a shrill challenge at them. Unlike the others they had seen, the heavy armor was much better on this one and it wore some sort of leather headgear adorned with a fan of metal shards flaring halfway around the back of its head. Instead of a sword or axe, this monster raised a twisted and tarnished staff.

"Oh, crap," Kaslyn muttered before alerting the others, "Mage!" A bolt of green fire shot from the darkspawn's staff and crashed into her left side. More nature magic she noticed with an angry yelp kindled by the stinging in her ribs. She instantly fired the arrow she had fitted to her bowstring at the darkspawn sorcerer. It rocked in place as her missile struck below its left shoulder but the heavy breastplate easily absorbed the impact. From the corner of her left eye she saw a genlock appear further down the peninsula northeast of them and start barreling towards the group. Daveth's bow hummed nearby, aimed at the genlock and she glimpsed both Alistair and Ser Jory start past as well. She was about to nock another arrow when she abruptly remembered the fire arrows she had found discarded in Ostagar. She cursed her forgetfulness and used the sharp arrowhead she was about to shoot to instantly cut the string that tied that bundle together in her quiver. She fired the missile in her hand, more to get rid of it than with any real hope of hurting the creature, and reached for one of the specialty arrows. She didn't remember if darkspawn were particularly vulnerable to fire but she needed something more than her regular darts against this thing while the others were engaged. The specially-prepared shaft ignited as it left her bow and she had the fierce pleasure of hearing the darkspawn howl when the blazing barb sank into its left chest next to her first two shots. Before she could shoot another flaming arrow at her target, the monstrous mage cast another green bolt at her then abruptly spun around and retreated back across the bridge. Snarling, Kaslyn dove out of the way of the magical spell, rolled to her feet, and immediately gave chase. She knew it was likely a ploy – it was too obvious not to be – but she couldn't let the mage get away. Already exceedingly dangerous to them, it could conceivably kill them all, given enough time to summon the right magic. As she started after the monster, she caught a glimpse of two more genlocks appearing close by. This ambush was cunningly laid, she thought furiously. Figuring the more heavily armed and armored men would make fairly quick work of the three genlocks, Kaslyn did not hesitate and dashed after her foe.

Alistair held his breath when he saw the green spell slam the Dalish. Nature magic, his Templar training told him. Before he could intercept the hostile sorcery, however, more genlocks appeared. Without a doubt the biggest threat there was that darkspawn mage but they could not ignore the danger the other monsters posed either. He shouted when he saw Kaslyn take off after the darkspawn spell-caster withdrawing across the narrow bridge. He should be the one going after the sorcerer! Somewhat frantic to catch up to the Dalish, he killed his foe as quickly as he could. He ground his teeth together with frustration when he saw the other two genlocks had converged on the knight. He could not go after Kaslyn and leave Ser Jory outnumbered despite Daveth's long-range supporting fire. Working together, the three of them rapidly eliminated the two remaining monsters and raced to catch up to their impetuous sister recruit.

Kaslyn had stopped at the other end of the bridge and was firing flaming arrows at the mage. As she did so, she also ducked and dodged incoming barbs from a hurlock armed with a shortbow not far away on the left and from a nearby genlock on the right who used a bow from behind a fence of sharpened wooden stakes. Another green blast exploded against her bare waist before Alistair could shield her from all the incoming spells and missiles. He was appalled when more howling heralded the arrival of two more hurlocks emerging from a small grove of trees beyond the genlock archer. He and the others started to charge past the Dalish to engage the rest of the darkspawn but halted on her abrupt order.

"Stop!" Kaslyn warned, "Trap field!" She shied away as an arrow thudded off of Alistair's shield. Pulling another shaft from her quiver and nocking it to her bowstring, she quietly but firmly commanded, "Alistair, take a half step left then go straight towards that hurlock archer for three steps! Jory, one step forward then one right, then head for the genlock for two! Daveth, get to the right corner of the bridge then take three steps towards the pond behind the genlock! On my mark…," she leaned around the shield and fired another flaming arrow at the gesticulating darkspawn mage, then cried, "Go!"

"For the Grey Wardens!" Alistair yelled.

"To the death!" Ser Jory bellowed.

"Say your prayers!" Daveth shouted.

Without question or hesitation, the men followed instructions. Once Alistair was clear of the unseen traps he changed his course for the darkspawn sorcerer. Several blazing arrows were sticking out of its chest, most over its heart, and it was stumbling on its feet even as it struggled to cast more magic. Before he could get to the mage, however, two more flaming arrows streaked past to strike the darkspawn which faltered and finally fell. Immediately he turned his attentions to the nearby hurlock archer. Seeing Alistair coming directly for it, the brute tossed aside the bow and pulled a large, ugly longsword. They began to exchange blows and the Warden struggled to gain control of the engagement as the enraged creature's raw strength started to hammer him back towards the bridge. Suddenly he felt something bump him from behind and heard Kaslyn's voice.

"Stop! Wait for me!"

Blocking another heavy strike with his shield, he had no idea what she was talking about but held his ground. Suddenly he saw her spin into view from under his sword arm. With one well-placed kick, she knocked the hurlock sideways. There was a clattering snap and the staggering darkspawn yowled as the jaws of a trap crunched into its leg. With the hurlock held in place, Alistair and Kaslyn quickly finished it off together. "Behind you!" She told him, pointing a bloody blade.

"Right!" Alistair acknowledged, turning to see the two hurlocks pressuring Ser Jory. Even as they rushed over and teased one of the darkspawn off of the knight, Daveth succeeded in dispatching the genlock with his daggers and joined Ser Jory who managed to hold off the remaining hurlock. Focusing their attentions on their respective foes, the last two brutes went down swiftly.

Alistair heaved a sigh of relief. It had been a close call, he knew. The darkspawn had chosen their ground well. Luckily for the quartet, Kaslyn had managed to detect all the traps laid at the end of the bridge, and they had listened to her guidance. If they had gotten stuck, the monsters could have picked them off easily. Despite being outnumbered and the challenge the darkspawn mage had presented, however, he and the recruits had prevailed. The men applied a few health poultices to their various wounds and wiped down their weapons while the Dalish cleaned her daggers and turned to disabling the traps at the end of the bridge so nothing else through the area would get caught. After attending to his weapons, Daveth started looting the darkspawn as Ser Jory looked on in disgust and distaste.

Approaching Kaslyn where she stood after deactivating the last snare, Alistair told her, "Thanks for getting us through that." He indicated the traps and added with a grin, "I'll never know how you managed to spot them so quickly."

Kaslyn smiled modestly and replied, "I just try to … pay attention…." Her bright expression faded and her voice trailed off as she glanced down.

Alistair glimpsed a sad shadow pass across her face when she looked away from him and he wondered what he might have said wrong. The movement caused him to notice her hands holding her left side and he was startled to catch sight of the reddened skin between her fingers. Recalling that she had been the first one after the mage, he realized she had likely taken several more nature spells before the darkspawn sorcerer finally died. He frowned and offered with a gesture, "Here, let me take a look at that."

"No," she answered quickly, shaking her head and looking back at him, "It's nothing. I'm fine."

Alistair grinned wryly and responded, "It's clearly not 'nothing', and if it is, there's no hurt in letting me have a look, right?"

She eyed him warily for several seconds then slowly raised her fists from her side. Alistair, still looking at her injured midriff, frowned even more deeply and reached for a health poultice. The flesh was redly inflamed around ugly, dark purplish-black bruises already swelling where the green bolts had nearly penetrated. She had probably taken enough spellfire to have crippled or seriously wounded any of the men – despite their armor – and yet he was surprised she was not injured worse.

She silently flinched at his initial touch and he apologized if it hurt. He glanced up once and saw she was watching him with cautious interest but he continued with his gentle ministrations and smeared the affected area with the healing paste until the almost-wound was treated. When he finished, she slowly lowered her hands and he gave her the other half of the medication which had to be swallowed. "Should be good as ever in no time," he smiled reassuringly while he wiped his fingers clean and she drank the potion. "You know, it's usually not healthy to chase after hostile mages by yourself like that," he teased, "That's what Templars are for."

"Then you better get after them before I do," she responded with her own weary smile. It wasn't pain that had caused her to recoil. Alistair was the first human since Duncan to be allowed to touch her. She breathed a shaky sigh before looking into his face and uttering a quietly deliberate, "Ma serannas, Alistair. 'Thank you' in the Elvish."

Noting that the comment was not made in a frivolous manner, Alistair hesitated then nodded, "You're welcome, my lady."

She gave him another curious look and smiled shyly before they were approached by the other two recruits. Daveth shared what he had taken from the bodies which included the staff the darkspawn mage had used, more copper, and a small bottle of thick, black, demonic ichor. Kaslyn had learned about the substance but never expected to actually encounter it. In the right – or wrong - hands it could make a very potent poison.

"I didn't know darkspawn could use magic," Daveth admitted, twirling the staff curiously.

Ser Jory visibly shuddered, "I thought they were just mindless creatures for the most part."

"That was an emissary," Alistair explained to them. "They're the spellcasters of the darkspawn. Supposedly they possess the ability to speak and communicate to other species, but what they could possibly have to talk about I have no idea. They're supposed to be rare …," his voice trailed off.

"Outside of a Blight?" Kaslyn finished for him.

Alistair nodded. He cocked his head at her and asked, "How did you know that was a mage?"

"You mean aside from the weird staff?" Kaslyn asked drolly. Her shrug elicited a wince as the motion pulled at the healing flesh, and she replied more seriously, "I've fought a darkspawn mage before." She frowned thoughtfully and added, "It was a genlock that time, though."

"Emissaries are usually any darkspawn smart enough to use magic," Alistair acknowledged then remarked, "That still doesn't answer how you shrugged off those nature spells."

She wavered before replying, "I'm Dalish!"

"Handy," Daveth smirked, tying the staff to his pack.

"Usually," Kaslyn responded pertly. The others chuckled as she glanced around and suggested, "We didn't exactly get a chance to look for any trail signs when we got here."

The men agreed and started searching the area. The darkspawn had clearly made this clearing theirs and it was another gruesome scene even before their most recent clash. At least a dozen corpses of the king's soldiers littered the area. Kaslyn noted that not all of them had been killed there; several had been dragged in from other places. A few heads had been roughly hacked or torn off their bodies and now silently shrieked in terror from pikes posted around the area. More of the darkspawn's rough crescent markers cluttered the place as well. One had even been set up behind the statue of a human man and a horned stag skull had been strapped atop the figure's head, turning an ordinary sculpture into a monstrous symbol.

"Over here!" Alistair called. He had crossed back to the other side of the bridge and the rest joined him there.

"That's it!" Ser Jory nodded when he saw it, "If we've read these correctly, the cache is quite close."

Kaslyn jumped up and strode back to the other side of the wooden bridge. Becoming familiar with her impulsivity, Alistair went after her quickly and the others followed him. Moving through the small wood where the two hurlocks had emerged, she cleared the trees, and started down a path into a small hollow where a large, friendly bonfire magically sprang to life. Halfway to the blaze, the Dalish stopped. Her head came up as the Warden paused stiffly. Without a word, Daveth immediately vanished. No sooner was he out of sight than two genlocks abruptly appeared in front of the group. Low, guttural growling indicated two more were at their backs as well. While the warriors held the darkspawns' unkind attentions, the rogue and the hunter went to work behind the monsters. Soon all four darkspawn joined the others in the dirt. After cleaning their weapons, the Warden and the three recruits neared the large fire.

Aside from the flames, the only other objects of note were the three, fallen tree trunks placed to provide comfortable seating to take advantage of the warmth. Deciding to start with the obvious, they investigated the ends of the logs and discovered the Chasind storage in the hollows. From inside the secret places, they withdrew several interesting things all fashioned by the wilder folk, including a few intricately decorated weapons; a horned, masked helmet clearly meant to be more frightening than protective; and a set of ragged leather robes adorned with animal teeth, bones, and smelling strongly of tanned hide and sweat. The cache also contained three beautifully polished stones of topaz, malachite and quartz. Everything was distributed amongst their four packs and they returned to the scene of the ambush to reluctantly check the soldiers' remains for anything of use or value or to be returned elsewhere. They had no luck until Kaslyn discovered a small leather pouch folded inside a yellowed, bloodstained page torn from a large book about local myths and legends. One of the passages on the paper had been marked so she handed the sheet to the nearby rogue and explored the bag. Daveth awkwardly scanned the writing then held up the page to the others and cheerfully remarked, "Looks like we have another treasure to find again!"

Alistair was intrigued but Ser Jory had apparently had his fill of strange clues and extraneous questing. "Haven't we done enough of that already?" He asked with some impatience. "We should find those Grey Warden documents."

"Too late to get worked up over those treaties now, ser knight," Daveth answered with a grin. "I've never heard of a tower that stood for more than ten years in this forest. Besides, this quest could be special. Sprinkle some ashes in the right spot 'overlooking a half-sunken Tevinter dome' and ask a spirit for a wish!"

Alistair looked over Daveth's shoulder at the Dalish who had hung back. "What do you think, Kaslyn? We still need to find those documents, if they're even here."

She shrugged, "I think the Chasind are right – the Wilds are as full of stories as shadows - but it's no worse looking for that than anything else we've searched for today." She gestured back over her shoulder and added, "I noticed a domed building in the lake next to the trail we followed. It's not far from here if you want to have a quick look."

Alistair nodded then frowned, "But didn't it say ashes were necessary…?" He stopped when Kaslyn held up her hand where a small sack dangled from her fingers. Seeing most of them approved and they already had some idea where to explore, the Warden agreed they could briefly investigate and afterwards resume the search for the archive.

Although the lake with the sinking building could be seen from the darkspawn camp, bogs and ruins prevented any immediate access. Kaslyn was forced to lead them slightly east and much further north before they eventually came to a promontory overlooking the sunken dome. At the top of the point they saw a pile of stones covered in a fine layer of dust and ash. Since she held the small leather pouch that allegedly contained ashes from cremated remains, Kaslyn was encouraged do the honors. She sprinkled the dust over the stones and looked around.

Nothing happened for a moment then suddenly there was a noise from behind them. A dark, hooded specter swirled up from the ground and a low, creaking voice moaned, "Who summons Gazarath from his slumber?"

Before anyone could speak, the smoky shade took a swipe with a clawed hand at the closest of them. Ser Jory jumped back and quickly grabbed his greatsword as the dusty spirit came for him again. Alistair instantly drew his sword and shield and bounded up next to the knight. Already in close proximity to their foe and running low on arrows, both archers leaped for the shade as they snatched out their daggers. Daveth immediately positioned himself behind the ghost and started his assault while Kaslyn was left to quickly maneuver to the far side of the specter. As they closed in, Alistair was already swinging his longsword through the dust, trying to divide its angry attention. Kaslyn noted that despite the spirit's frequent hissing, most of the effort of their blows appeared to be passing harmlessly through the smoky shadow. Certainly it seemed as though the larger sword was having about as much effect as the smaller daggers. Attempting to bring his greatsword into play offensively, Ser Jory was forced to concentrate on defense as the shade's attacks were coming too fast for him to do anything more. Frustrated by her own aggravated weakness and ineffectuality, it occurred to Kaslyn that the rest of them could take advantage of the specter's exclusive focus on the knight. "Just hold it off, Ser Jory! We'll do the rest!"

The knight eventually managed to bring his two-handed weapon to bear when one particular stroke by Daveth somehow got the spirit's attention and it swirled around to start lashing out at the rogue. Unlike Ser Jory with his one, huge greatsword, Daveth was much quicker with a knife in each hand and attempted to continually dodge, parry, and strike. The shadow was supernaturally fast, however. Noting he was in danger of being overwhelmed, Kaslyn urged the rogue to focus on his own protection. By the time the shade turned its attentions to Alistair, the Warden already knew what to do and they continued to employ this sort of strategy throughout the specter's onslaught.

It was a long, hard battle, easily the most intense encounter they had experienced since they had entered the Wilds that day, but eventually the Warden and the recruits triumphed. With a final hissing shriek, the shade threw up its arms and dissolved back into the ground, leaving a small pile of dusty rags. Coughing, gasping, and sagging with exhausted relief, they all slowly put away their weapons. They were amazed to find that, thanks to the self-defensive tactics, only a few minor injuries required attention.

Panting as hard as the rest of them, Kaslyn allowed herself to sink to her knees on the pretext of checking the ragged remains. She had been lucky during the skirmish. The shade had turned its attention to her only briefly but had quickly sought a larger, slower target when she had proven exceedingly difficult to hit. That was the good news. The abysmally bad news was that she was not moving at anywhere near her best speed and could not honestly measure how much stamina she had left but guessed it was not much. She was far more tired than she should have been and trembling a little but she wasn't certain if it was from the recent effort or shivers from her illness. She scowled at herself. They were in the middle of the Wilds and these men were relying on her to point them through this wilderness to the archive and back to Ostagar. She did not have time to feel so bad right now and willed herself to ignore her symptoms. Suddenly she realized someone was speaking to her. Looking up to see Alistair on one knee nearby, she recognized he had asked her something and felt stupid as she was obliged to quietly ask, "I'm sorry, what?"

He frowned with concern and gently said, "I just asked if you were all right. Any injuries that need bandaging?"

Kaslyn shook her head then glanced over herself. The marks from the darkspawn emissary had faded into a few light, palm-sized bruises from her chest to her waist. She had other minor scrapes and scratches but nothing significant and answered, "No, I'm fine." She saw the skeptical quirk to his eyebrows and recalled the last time she had said those words. A smile lifted one side of her mouth, "No, really, I'm fine." She paused before adding, "So much for ending the Blight with a single magic wish!" The Warden still appeared troubled however. She shot a quick glance past him at the other two men who were tying off poultices before she looked back at him and murmured, "I'll be all right, Alistair. I … I'm just tired, that's all…."

Reluctantly, he nodded, accepting her excuse. Where he and the others were still somewhat flushed from their exertions, Kaslyn was definitely paler than she had been earlier. He noticed she was shaking faintly and her eyes seemed distant. When it took a couple of attempts to get her attention, Alistair's worry deepened. Still, they were in the middle of the Wilds. The only thing he could do for her now was find the treaties and return to Duncan and the Joining as quickly as possible. He forced a smile to his face, and indicated the pile of rags, "Find anything interesting?"

Kaslyn blinked then looked down at the shreds as though remembering they were there. She sorted through the scraps and pulled out a wad of brown leather that turned out to be a tall pair of light boots. She could feel a faint tingle of enchantment on them. "Funny," she commented lightheartedly, "I didn't think Gazarath had feet."

Alistair insisted they rest for a little while after such a hard battle so soon after the other. His open reason was true enough and Daveth and Ser Jory certainly seemed relieved but privately the Warden also felt a bit guilty that Kaslyn had been directly involved in so much of the fighting. Acquiring darkspawn blood for the Joining was hardly a restful pastime but he had not intended for the tainted Dalish to participate quite so much. Although a gray haze had been gradually gathering overhead throughout the day, the sun was still readily visible and obviously getting on into late afternoon when they all eventually agreed they were ready to find the treaties and get back to Ostagar.

Kaslyn took another look at Alistair's map and then turned them northeast. Solid ground was much more widespread and the forest was considerably thinner in this portion of the Wilds. Soon they could see the remains of a large tower atop a distant hill. Closing in on the ruin, none of them were surprised when Alistair alerted them darkspawn were in the vicinity. Soon Kaslyn spotted a hurlock apparently standing guard on a rise to the right of the abandoned tower. She didn't have many arrows left and suggested that they try to bring the darkspawn to them to dispatch a few at a time. Unclipping her bow from her harness, she fired a shaft, striking the hurlock in the neck. It rocked back, letting out a stifled gargle, and then charged in their direction.

"Let's make this quick!" Alistair urged, immediately striding forward to intercept the creature. Ser Jory was at his side, and since he was out of arrows, Daveth disappeared, presumably to join the Warden and the knight. From the corner of his eye, Alistair was somewhat unhappy to see the Dalish move up beside him as she drew her curved daggers. Her presence turned out to be advantageous, however, since the hurlock she initially goaded was joined by another one emerging from behind some overgrown ruins on their left. Splitting into pairs, Alistair and Kaslyn engaged one monster while Ser Jory and Daveth took on the other. In short order, the two hurlocks were dead. Alistair confirmed there were more darkspawn ahead and they cautiously advanced up the hill closer to the tumbledown tower. Daveth vanished from sight again as Kaslyn stuck her tainted blades into the ground at her feet. Drawing her bow once more, she looked towards the ruin to choose her next target from the three hurlocks standing at the entrance between the crumbled walls. The features of the central one were hidden behind a horned helmet and its armor appeared to be heavier and of better quality than any they had seen before with the possible exception of the sorcerer. A crude, longsword and dagger hung from its back. Focused on something inside the ruin, the darkspawn were apparently indifferent to – or had not noticed - the fate of the others.

Kaslyn peered at the monsters and asked the Warden, "That one in the middle isn't another emissary, is it?"

Alistair squinted up the hill and answered, "No…. That looks like an alpha. They're usually the more intelligent and more skillful fighters. Smart enough to be leaders or champions, perhaps, but not quite smart enough to be mages."

The Dalish nodded and warned, "I don't think there's any way to get fewer than all of them, so be ready." Kaslyn nocked another arrow when she was struck by a really bad idea. A wicked smile stole over her face as she drew her bowstring back. The darkspawn's horned helmet rang like a bell as her arrow ricocheted off the back of it. Instantly it stopped whatever it was doing and turned with slow menace to see the three visitors halfway up the hill. Instead of shooting it again, the Dalish, still holding her bow, held open her arms and cocked her head in an insolent, inviting gesture.

"Maker's blood, Kaslyn," Alistair murmured, aghast at her impertinent actions, "Don't _play_ with the darkspawn – especially not a hurlock alpha!"

"What's it going to do? Come get me?" Kaslyn asked wryly. Up at the top of the hill, the hurlock warrior threw back its head and let out a fearsome war cry. Her eyes widened. "Then again," she admitted somewhat sheepishly, "You might have a point."

As all three darkspawn rushed down the slope at the Warden and the recruits, Kaslyn clipped her bow back into place, pulled up her knives, and urged Ser Jory to take the attention of one hurlock so Daveth could work on it from elsewhere. Daveth, catching on quickly, appeared behind the brute attacking the knight and worked his daggers into every available weak point he could find. Meanwhile, Kaslyn turned her lethal attention to the two hurlocks on the Warden. Working as fast as she could, she managed to temporarily stun the alpha long enough for Alistair and her to swiftly kill the lesser of the two. The dazed hurlock had not recovered for long before it was surrounded by the recruits and the Warden. In spite of the armor it wore and its fearsome howls, it never really stood a chance and was soon as dead as the rest of its kind.

No one had taken any serious injuries and Daveth looked at Kaslyn with a whistle, "Heh, now I know what makes the Dalish so scary – you're all crazy!" Kaslyn arched an eyebrow at him and he grinned to diffuse any offense. Ser Jory appeared to generally agree with the rogue but merely glanced at her respectfully.

"Well, we wanted them to come to us," she offered halfheartedly. She turned a pained expression of rueful embarrassment on Alistair and said, "I apologize, Warden. I have been completely overstepping my place by giving orders to everybody recently and I know that is _not_ what I was asked to do." Feeling extremely guilty, she realized she had become increasingly brash ever since the ambush with the emissary. She had been asked to take point, not to take charge. Amongst the Dalish, a hunter arbitrarily usurping the hunt leader's place was considered the height of disrespect. His response surprised her.

Alistair laughed and replied, "Actually, with the possible exception of teasing the alpha just now, I would have thanked you for guiding us all through the Wilds and watching out for us this afternoon." Seeing her confused and concerned expression, he added reassuringly, "Don't worry, Kaslyn. You haven't done anything wrong. In fact, it's no wonder Duncan spoke so highly of you."

Kaslyn looked away modestly. She wasn't certain what to make of his praise but knew she did not deserve it. Since neither the Warden nor the other men appeared offended, she decided it was best to leave the situation alone and mind her given duty again. As the warriors finished cleaning their larger blades of darkspawn blood, the hunter and the rogue looted the bodies. Among the various items discovered, she and Daveth decided she would make the most of the fire arrows while he especially appreciated the grey iron dagger. Neither Alistair nor Ser Jory objected since the others would get far more use out of such things. When everyone was ready, they cautiously approached the ruined outpost.

It must have once been an impressive tower and court but now most of what remained was weather-worn stone. Broken pillars and portions of toppled walls lay scattered everywhere, while dirt, grass, and weeds now covered what was once likely a paved courtyard. Alistair reminded them to keep their eyes open for anything like a chest but not to touch it if possible.

Searching for their objective, Kaslyn also stayed alert to anything else that might be hiding deeper in the abandoned tower to ambush them. She detected nothing beyond the obvious. No one had been here in a very long time. Looking around, she wondered why the darkspawn had seemed so unwilling to enter this place. There seemed to be a sort of quiet, purposeful peace here but the Dalish thought that was probably just wishful thinking on the part of her imagination. Eventually she caught sight of something noteworthy and pointed it out to the others. Near a large slab of wall that had crashed to the ground was a heavy wooden chest which had been smashed open.

"I don't suppose there's any way to tell who or what might have done this or where the contents might be now?" Alistair asked. It was obvious from his resigned tone of voice that he didn't expect a positive answer.

Kaslyn quietly replied, "Let me get a look and see if there are any traces or tracks." She knelt by the dirty, broken chest, careful not to touch it, and started examining the pieces and the nearby ground for clues. She had not been there for very long when a feminine voice from behind interrupted her investigation.

"Well, well…. What have we here? Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder? Come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"

Kaslyn turned and stood to see a human woman slowly descending a ramp that led down from the rest of the crumbling tower. Most of her raven hair was knotted artfully at the crown of her head, but some loose locks fell forward to frame her beautiful, porcelain face and her most striking feature: her large, golden eyes. They were as sharp as a bird of prey's and accented with purple shadow on the lids. She stood slightly more than half a head taller than the Dalish, which was average size for a human woman, and was dressed in clothing similar to Chasind fashion with an intricate, hooded vest of wine-colored leather, and a knee-length, tattered, black leather skirt over black leather leggings and boots. She wore a black, fingerless glove on her right hand and a black band on her right upper arm, while her left arm was covered by a full-length, black sleeve that was accented with an ebon-feathered pauldron at the shoulder. An ornate, bronze, collar-style necklace adorned her neckline and she carried a carved wooden staff over her shoulder. Her clean scent was that of a civilized sort of wilderness, something very faintly musty, and the smell of a thunderstorm. Even had she not been clearly carrying a staff, Kaslyn would have guessed that she was a mage of some ability. Pausing at the bottom of the ramp, the woman coolly observed the group. She took two more strides towards them then stopped, crossing her arms before her, and abruptly insisted, "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

As the woman drew nearer, Kaslyn took a few steps away from the chest in case she needed space to act while Alistair instinctively moved closer to the pale Dalish and the other two adjusted to flank them. Kaslyn's head lifted at the assertion but she was unperturbed. Humans usually received no warmer a welcome when they were found by the Dalish. She wasn't certain how the Wilds could belong to the woman but guessed that her camp might be somewhere nearby. Since no one else seemed inclined to answer and those golden eyes kept returning to her, Kaslyn responded, "We are neither. The Grey Wardens once owned this tower…."

"'Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse," the woman interrupted dismissively. She deliberately strolled through their midst in a careless manner, watching them from the corners of her eyes as they turned to follow her path. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?'" She came to a stop on a small hillock formed by countless seasons of dirt gathered under an archway and turned to face them. "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

"Don't answer her," Alistair quietly warned them, "She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

Kaslyn didn't see what difference that would make to simply answer a question. The presence of one Chasind did not automatically mean others were close, and none of her own senses or instincts suggested anyone else was here. She had met some wilder folk when she was a child and did not spontaneously fear people who might be considered 'barbaric' simply because they lived differently than others. Humans and Dalish accused each other of that trait all the time.

"Ooh," the woman shivered sarcastically at the Warden. Flinging her arms up dramatically, she chided, "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you."

"Yes…," Alistair agreed slowly with a narrow-eyed gaze on the stranger, "Swooping is _bad_."

Kaslyn's head swiveled to look at the Warden with a mystified frown.

"She's a witch of the Wilds, she is!" Daveth interjected anxiously, "She'll turn us all into toads!"

"'Witch of the Wilds'," the woman intoned with measured mockery, "Such idle fancies those legends." With a hint of impatience she asked, "Have you no minds of your own? You there," she said, addressing Kaslyn with a tilt of her chin as she crossed her arms before her, "Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine." The stranger dropped her hands back to her sides.

Overcoming her befuddlement from Alistair's last comment, Kaslyn's head came up slightly as she calmly returned the woman's gaze. Noting the fidgeting, the Dalish surmised she might be anxious and unused to speaking with strangers. She did communicate in something of an archaic style, the hunter noticed. The woman had not offered them any threat and seeing no point in being rude and no harm in answering the question, the Dalish responded politely, "I am Kaslyn of clan Mahariel. A pleasure to meet you."

Dark eyebrows arched in surprise, the woman replied, "Now that is a proper, civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan." She crossed her arms before her again, and indicating the shattered chest with her head, she asked, "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?"

"'Here no longer'?" Alistair leaped on the question with an incensed scowl, "You stole them, didn't you? You're … some kind of … sneaky … witch-thief!"

Kaslyn's eyebrows twitched over another confused expression but she managed to refrain from rolling her eyes or thumbing the bridge of her nose. Clearly Alistair's diplomacy with wilder folk could stand a bit of work. It really wasn't much of a guess. Morrigan had already told them she had watched them for some time. She would have seen them search the ruins and Kaslyn's examination of the empty chest which had been that way long enough to collect dirt on the remaining shards. All of which was observable. That did not, however, automatically make Morrigan the thief. Managing to assume an air of concerned curiosity, she looked up to see the woman was unimpressed.

"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?" Morrigan asked lightly.

"Quite easily, it seems," Alistair replied pointedly. He went on more firmly, "Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them."

Arms still crossed, Morrigan merely raised a disdainful eyebrow at the Warden and responded to his demand somewhat coolly. "I will not, for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened."

Kaslyn watched the exchange and waited quietly. It would be a miracle if Morrigan didn't destroy the treaties right in front of them for such poor manners. They both had a valid point as far as the Dalish was concerned. As Alistair contended, it was indeed easy to steal from the dead – provided they did not get back up to protest, Kaslyn thought, recalling her experiences in the cave. Morrigan was also correct. This ruin was so old, there was nothing left to identify to whom any of it might have once belonged. Kaslyn sighed deeply. Morrigan knew the Wilds better than any of them. She might also know who had removed the treaties and possibly where they were. She was currently the key to finding them and antagonizing her was foolish. Politely Kaslyn inquired, "Then who removed them?"

Morrigan's gaze returned to the Dalish and an approving expression flitted across her face as she uncrossed her arms and answered, "'Twas my mother, in fact."

"Can you take us to her?" Kaslyn asked before the others could say anything else. Even if Morrigan was toying with them, they still had no better options or leads on where the treaties might be. They certainly weren't here and the day was definitely waning.

A smile crossed Morrigan's full, garnet lips and she responded with the merest hint of amusement in her tone. "Hmm…There is a sensible request. I like you," she said with a trace of warmth, which was more friendliness than she had yet shown.

Alistair frowned. In an unsubtle tone he warned Kaslyn, "I'd be careful. First it's 'I like you…' but then 'Zap!' Frog time."

Glancing around at them with increasing nervousness, Daveth insisted, "She'll put us in the pot, she will! Just you watch."

Ser Jory looked over at the dark-haired rogue and remarked, "If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change."

Kaslyn wasn't sure why they thought Morrigan was such a menace or why it was so hard for them to be courteous to the woman just because she clearly made her home out here in the Wilds. If Morrigan's demeanor had not been exactly genial, she had not threatened them in any way and might actually prove helpful in their recovery of the treaties. Kaslyn sighed to herself again.

"Follow me, then," Morrigan invited, turning for the Wilds behind her, "If it pleases you." She walked down the slope and out of the ruins.

Kaslyn didn't hesitate and started after her. There was a pause and she heard the men tag along behind her. Apparently they realized they could either continue to follow the Dalish or Morrigan or they simply appreciated they still needed to stick together out here. Despite her fatigue, Kaslyn was curious to see more of the Wilds and had no trouble keeping up. As they travelled, she wondered how Morrigan could have 'watched their progress for some time' without the Dalish noticing. Eventually she figured if Morrigan really was a 'witch of the Wilds' she must be intimately familiar with this wilderness, and Kaslyn's senses were likely as dulled by the taint as the rest of her reason and reflexes seemed to be. After a few minutes, the hunter's brain kicked something else to her attention and she addressed the woman walking just ahead of her, "Morrigan? Is there someplace we can get cleaned up before we meet your mother?"

The witch turned an appraising eye on the Dalish before that same regard flickered across the others. "There is another proper consideration," she agreed with the hint of another smile. She looked around for a bit then stopped by a large pond.

Kaslyn immediately went to make use of the clean water. After fighting their way through the Wilds all day, they were all splattered with the results of battle. It was one thing to be found by another wanderer in such a state but it would be impolite to deliberately meet someone looking as filthy and disreputable as the four of them did currently. Warily, the men followed the Dalish's example.

Alistair leaned in fairly close to the hunter to murmur, "Do you really know what you're doing?"

Tensing imperceptibly at his proximity, Kaslyn arched an eyebrow at him and softly asked, "Would you track darkspawn ooze into a camp where you come from?"

He grimaced and replied, "No, of course not." He hesitated before asking, "What I meant was, do you really think we can trust her?"

Kaslyn shrugged. "This is her home, after all. What are Grey Warden treaties to Morrigan or her mother?"

He frowned, "I … suppose I see your point."

Finally presentable, they continued. After almost an hour of travel they reached a fair-sized lake. In the middle of the water was a small island with a two-story, ramshackle hut partially built on stilts and leaning against the ruined remains of a large tower. In front of this odd, decrepit-looking structure, a woman was seated in a rocking chair, sorting a basket of herbs in her lap. Her gentle motions paused briefly when she spotted the group emerging from the trees and crossing the narrow, sloping path that curved across the lake.

Without hesitation, Morrigan walked right up to the cabin where the old woman still sat, and hailed her. "Greetings, Mother. I bring before you four Grey Wardens who …."

"I see them, girl," the older woman dismissed the rest of her daughter's words and continued her rocking. Morrigan took up a place slightly behind and to one side of her mother's chair as the old woman considered each of the visitors with a brief but intense gaze. "Mm… Much as I expected," she finally allowed, her voice a sort of throaty purr with barely any hint of accent. She had long, iron-grey hair, a pale complexion, and wore a dark green and brown dress of a simple style. Although her eyes and cheeks were somewhat sunken with age, there were few deep lines emphasizing her features. Kaslyn noted that her extremely peculiar scent could only be loosely compared to that of the wide open sky and the entirety of all the Wilds at once.

Alistair responded wryly, "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

The old woman's shrewd amber eyes fixed on him as she replied, "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide … either way one's a fool."

Daveth, possibly even more panicked in the presence of another strange woman, looked around at the others and warned them, "She's a witch, I tell you! We shouldn't be talking to her!"

Ser Jory nudged his fellow recruit in the side and muttered, "Quiet, Daveth! If she's really a witch do you want to make her mad?"

The old woman's penetrating gaze turned from the rogue to the knight. "There's a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will."

Her discerning attention finally came to Kaslyn who had remained silent with her arms crossed this whole time. She wasn't trying to appear hostile or defensive but to hold still her shivers again. The older woman stopped rocking and leaned forward in her chair as if to get a better look at the Dalish and asked, "And what of you? Does your elven mind give you a different viewpoint? What do you believe?"

About what? Kaslyn wondered. About her expectations? About either or both of them being witches? It was a pretty wide-open question. Kaslyn pondered her answer for a moment before responding forthrightly, "I'm not sure what to believe." To her surprise, the old woman appeared pleased with her answer.

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies," she said approvingly. Tapping the fingers of one hand in the palm of the other, she urged, "Be always aware … or is it oblivious? I can never remember…." She glanced around for a second. Her distant gaze refocused on the Dalish. Eyeing Kaslyn narrowly, she mused, "So much about you is uncertain … and yet I believe …." She looked away, "Do I?" Her regard came back to the hunter and she assured with a smile, "Why, it seems I do!"

Blinking puzzled eyes under quirked eyebrows, Kaslyn had no idea what the older woman was talking about. Keeper Marethari occasionally knew things out of the ordinary, however, and she saw no reason why this woman could not do the same. Twitching her nose, she quietly regarded the woman with polite curiosity but no fear or disdain.

Alistair was becoming distinctly uncomfortable with the old woman's apparent fascination with them in general and with Kaslyn in particular. Impatient to retrieve the treaties and move the situation along, he diverted the old woman's attention to himself by drawling skeptically, "So this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?"

The older woman's sharp eyes snapped to the Warden and she scoffed with amusement, "Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it!" Morrigan's mother clapped her hands together with amused delight, "Oh, how she dances under the moon!" She laughed a full-throated chuckle at her own jest, rocking back and forth in her chair.

Kaslyn's glance flickered over the older woman's shoulder to see Morrigan look down, fingering her bangs to hide her face in embarrassment. This common gesture of discomfiture amused and oddly reassured the Dalish. It seemed that a mother's need to tease her children was inescapable – even mysterious witches of the Wilds were evidently not immune.

Cheeks still pink, Morrigan's gaze rose slowly and she reminded her mother, "They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother."

"True," the older woman agreed, "they came for their treaties, yes?" Setting her basket beside her chair, the old woman got up with surprising fluidity and disappeared briefly into the hut. She emerged a short time later, four scrolls in hand, and continued speaking, "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."

"You -! Oh…. You protected them?" Alistair asked. His indignation curtailed before it could even truly gather.

"And why not?" The old woman countered, handing the treaties directly to a startled Kaslyn. She tentatively accepted the scrolls in her hands but before the old woman released them she looked the Dalish in the eye and warned, "Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!"

With this final counsel, the old woman relinquished the treaties into Kaslyn's safekeeping. Perplexed why she seemed to merit so much of the older woman's unusual attention or what else she could say, Kaslyn nodded her understanding respectfully and carefully tucked the scrolls away in her pack. She briefly considered asking the old woman what her cryptic message might mean but then realized that was about as clear as such words were likely to get anyway. Having accomplished their final task, and aware of which direction Ostagar lay, Kaslyn was ready to leave. She was eager to get out from under her illness and the Joining ritual and get on with other matters, whether they were in this life or Beyond. The treaties secured, Kaslyn politely murmured, "Thank you for returning them."

"Such manners," the old woman marveled with a happy smile, "Always in the last place you look – like stockings!" She glanced down at her own battered leather shoes then back up at those standing before her and laughed again, "Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!"

"Time for you to go then," Morrigan remarked dismissively.

Kaslyn thought Alistair might not be the only one who could stand to practice some people skills.

"Do not be ridiculous, girl," the older woman chided her daughter, "These are your guests."

"Oh, very well," Morrigan reluctantly agreed, "I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."

~O~

The return trip to Ostagar was uneventful although Kaslyn occasionally wondered about the route Morrigan took through the maze of forests, fens, and ruins. The Dalish suspected she might have been guiding them around any darkspawn but had no idea how the woman could know where they were. Neither she nor Alistair detected any on the way back. That was an unspoken relief to both of them. Kaslyn wasn't sure how much strength she had left and Alistair wasn't sure how much the Dalish had either; not to mention it had been a long, tiring day for everyone. Morrigan led them all the way to the bottom of the cliffs below Ostagar itself, where Kaslyn thanked her courteously and watched as the witch gave them one last look before vanishing into the deepening shadows.

Ascending the path they had taken that morning, the group tramped through the Wilds gate just after dusk. Bonfires and torches were being lit throughout the camp. The guard at the gate was both glad and relieved to see them safely returned, and Kaslyn was thankful as well. The walk through the forest had been tolerable enough but the final hike up the steep ridge had been exhausting. Kaslyn's determined focus had narrowed on setting one foot above and before the other. Finally entering the camp, she could feel her knees trembling and was glad to see Duncan waiting for them by the huge bonfire burning brightly in front of the Grey Warden tent. Alistair wasted no time assembling the recruits before the senior Warden and took his usual place facing them. Duncan was pleased to see them although his expression was also touched with concern.

"So you return from the Wilds," Duncan acknowledged, "Have you been successful?"

"We have," Kaslyn answered. She and the other recruits handed over all six, unbroken vials to the senior Warden. He carefully placed them in a bag at his side before regarding them once more.

"Good. I've had the Circle mages preparing," the older Warden replied, "With the blood you've retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately."

Aware that the Joining was dangerous, Kaslyn looked at Alistair and prompted, "Maybe we should tell you about Morrigan and her mother."

Duncan turned his dark gaze to the younger Warden who explained, "There was a woman at the tower and her mother had the scrolls." He shifted uneasily as he hesitantly added, "They were both very … odd."

"Were they wilder folk?' Duncan inquired.

Alistair appeared troubled as he replied, "I don't think so. They might be apostates: mages hiding from the Chantry." He caught sight of Kaslyn's interested expression and explained, "You know what the Circle of Magi is, don't you?" At her uncertain nod, he went on, "The Circle requires an accounting of all mages. That's the law of the land and the Chantry."

Kaslyn felt that was a rather ambitious law. Considering the number of Dalish Keepers and Firsts whom she knew for a fact would laugh themselves breathless at the very notion of affiliation with either the Circle or the Chantry, and suspecting there were more people like Morrigan and her mother, she wondered just how well that 'law of the land' was working for the overzealous order. It was no wonder they thought they needed to train people to hunt down rogue mages. Duncan's deep voice caught her attention once more.

"I know you were once a Templar, Alistair, but Chantry business is not ours," the older Warden reminded the younger, "We have the scrolls; let us focus on the Joining."

There was a soundless pause as the recruits absorbed the fact they had finally reached the ritual.

Into the silence Kaslyn simply accepted, "I'm ready." She looked up at the senior Warden and their eyes met.

Duncan's solemn countenance broke into a pleased smile at her soft admission. "Excellent. You will need that courage to face what comes next."

"Courage?" Daveth asked with a worried expression, "How much danger are we in?"

"I will not lie," Duncan said, looking at the dark-haired rogue. "We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later."

"You're saying this ritual can kill us?" Daveth asked with wide eyes.

Duncan met his gaze levelly and replied, "As could any darkspawn you might face in battle. You would not have been chosen, however, if I did not think you had a chance to me be very clear on that point. You are not volunteers. Whether you were conscripted or recruited, you were chosen because you are needed. There is no turning back now."

Daveth took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders and urged, "Let's go then. I'm anxious to see this Joining now." His brown eyes turned to the Dalish. Duncan and Alistair regarded at her as well.

Kaslyn raised her chin and quietly maintained, "I've come this far. I will see this through." In spite of Duncan's approval, she felt there had been no special courage on her part about facing this ritual. She was simply done with feeling sick and tired. It wasn't resignation so much as impatience and an insistence on taking her life back into her own hands.

A resolute expression came over Ser Jory's face as the expectant gazes turned to him. He raised his head as well and declared, "I agree. Let's have it done."

"Then let us begin," Duncan acknowledged. He looked at the Warden standing beside him. "Alistair, take them to the old temple."

Alistair gestured for them all to turn northward but Kaslyn lingered. "Duncan? May I have a moment, please?"

The two Wardens exchanged a glance and Duncan nodded at the younger man. Alistair opened his mouth but Kaslyn interrupted, "I can find you." With a reluctant nod, he and the other men left. Turning back to the remaining Warden, Kaslyn saw the older man watching her with interest and simply told him, "There was a little more to that meeting with Morrigan and her mother. When she returned the treaties, Morrigan's mother gave me instructions." Her gaze narrowed slightly as she recalled the exact words, "She said, 'Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize.'" Kaslyn's blue eyes looked up and met the Warden's somber black regard. "I'm not trying to cause trouble or spread panic, Duncan, but she seemed quite convinced. I figured if Keeper Marethari could just _know_ things, this woman might, too. She was generous enough to return the scrolls so I thought the least I could do was to deliver her message and let you decide what to make of it."

Duncan felt his heart shiver at the warning. He had seen too many strange things in his time to simply dismiss such words, even if they came from a possible apostate mage living in the Korcari Wilds. He was also proud of his Dalish hunter who had felt it necessary to discreetly deliver the message. Alarmed by her pallid and exhausted appearance when the recruits had returned, he knew her Joining must be performed quickly. Before he could say anything, Kaslyn spoke. Her features were anxious and her voice had grown softer.

"Duncan," she began apprehensively, "If … it should turn out that I … pay my price now. Would you please see to it that the white flowers in my pack get to the kennel master as soon as possible?" She glanced up to see a curious expression on his face and explained with a tiny smirk, "They're for a sick friend."

The Warden smiled in understanding and replied, "Of course, Kaslyn." He paused then said, "If there isn't anything else, you should go and join the others now at the old temple - up the far north ramp, past the dining hall, and up the eastern ramp."

"Do you want the treaties now?" She asked, starting to reach for her pack. She stopped when he held up his hand.

"I'm sure they're safe where they are for the time being," he told her, "Now you should join the others." He watched her nod before she turned and left in the same direction as Alistair and the other men. Duncan had much to think over as he made his way towards the magi encampment.

Alistair was watching the other recruits with his arms folded across his chest when Kaslyn finally arrived in the elevated courtyard where she had originally met him. He looked at her with one eyebrow raised curiously but nodded affably when she smiled a brief reassurance at him. Not far from where he stood she noticed a table had been placed near the left side of the patio. On top of the table rested the knight's greatsword alongside Daveth's bow, quiver, and daggers. Alistair saw her inquisitive gaze and told her, "You can leave your weapons there until we're finished. You won't need them." Noting the Warden still wore his sword and shield, Kaslyn reluctantly cooperated. Leaving her hunting and heirloom knives in the small of her back, she unfastened her weapon harness and placed it on the other side of Daveth's gear, opposite the two-handed sword. She returned to a spot not far from Alistair to avoid the knight's restless pacing.

"The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it," Ser Jory grumbled.

Daveth scowled at the knight and asked, "Are you blubbering again?"

"Why all these damned tests?" Ser Jory demanded with a frown of his own, "Have I not earned my place?"

"Maybe it's tradition," Daveth remarked, "maybe they're just trying to annoy you."

Kaslyn wondered if either recalled they were standing in front of a Grey Warden while they bickered. Briefly she toyed with the idea of trying to be sympathetic or urging them both to calm down. Deciding she was too tired to really care how they went on, she simply waited quietly.

"I only know that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way," Ser Jory replied. He shrugged with resignation, "If they had warned me …." He glanced down shaking his head and muttering, "It just doesn't seem fair."

That was certainly an unexpected reference to his family, Kaslyn thought. Instead of inspiration, the knight seemed to be using his expectant wife as justification for his inability to grasp that darkspawn were a very real threat to much more than disobedient children. Life did not come with warnings, as she well knew, and he wasn't the only one who had given up everything to be here. Then again, she reflected, his ideas of what constituted 'fair' were also probably skewed considerably differently than either she or Daveth measured such balances. For them, the Wardens meant a second chance to live, after all.

Making the effort once more, Daveth urged, "Would you have come if they'd warned you? Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?"

"Including sacrificing us?" Ser Jory shot back.

Unperturbed, Daveth replied, "I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight."

Kaslyn thought he made a good point. After facing the darkspawn all day, Daveth seemed to have come to grips with what it meant to be a Grey Warden. Ser Jory, on the other hand, still acted as if he were simply waiting for a congratulatory cloak in recognition of being promoted into an elite order. Daveth's voice drew her wandering attention again.

"You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?"

Ser Jory looked distinctly uncomfortable and his shoulders twitched, "I … uh …."

"Maybe you'll die," Daveth acknowledged, "Maybe we'll all die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we'll die for sure."

"I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade," the knight responded querulously.

He should get out more, Kaslyn mused. There were plenty of enemies in the world that could not be met with a weapon in hand. A quick glance at the others showed Daveth shaking his head at Ser Jory and Alistair regarding the rogue with an arched eyebrow of interest. Before anyone else could say anything Duncan walked into their midst carrying a large, silver chalice in both hands. At the elder Warden's appearance, Alistair dropped his folded arms and a look of anticipation crossed his features.

"At last we come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation." Duncan placed the goblet on the table and turned to face them. "So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood … and mastered their taint." He calmly looked around at each of the recruits.

It was a beautiful cup, Kaslyn thought idly. Crafted of plain silver, it had an opening nearly as broad as her face, and was big enough to require two hands to easily manage. A thick band of midnight blue lapis circled the bottom of the bowl just above the wide silver stem that stood almost as high as the length of her hand. She was curious what else was in the blood since Duncan had mentioned involving the Circle mages preparing something. Kaslyn's irreverent humor wondered how many people drank the first batches until they got the recipe right. Exerting some effort, she dragged her drifting attention back to the present. Drinking darkspawn blood, she mused, no wonder the Wardens couldn't say anything about the Joining.

"We're … going to drink the blood of those … those creatures?" Ser Jory appeared completely horrified and Daveth frowned.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us. As we did before you," Duncan averred, gesturing to them all. He held up his right fist, adding, "This is the source of our power and our victory."

"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint," Alistair affirmed, looking around at all of the recruits, "We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon."

"Since the beginning," Duncan acknowledged, "the Grey Wardens have been charged with finding those who are strong enough to attempt the Joining and recruiting them into our ranks, for the good of all." He looked again at each of those gathered there and said, "Not all who drink the blood will survive and those who do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay." He paused, his dark gaze appearing momentarily distant, before he regarded the younger Warden and said, "We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"

Alistair bowed his head and began to speak in a quiet, solemn voice, "Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn and should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

Kaslyn had bowed her head out of respect for the ceremony and was startled that she felt the words so deeply. She noticed that Daveth also recognized the serious nature of the ritual and seemed to be touched by it as well. From the corner of her eye she was annoyed but unsurprised to note that Ser Jory completely missed the sense of the occasion. Still oblivious as to what it meant to join the Grey Wardens, the knight had restlessly peered around at the rest of them and at the cup while Alistair had been speaking. When the young Warden finished, they looked up. Duncan was holding the goblet out to Daveth.

"Daveth, step forward," the Grey Warden ordered.

The rogue took the chalice and considered the contents for a moment before raising it. He gulped down a share then handed the cup back. Accepting the goblet, Duncan watched him intently, backing away a couple of steps. Alistair also eyed the other man and moved away as well while Ser Jory mimicked them. Remaining still, the Dalish wondered why. Daveth suddenly shook his head and staggered backwards a couple of paces. He lurched forward, half-bent at the waist. Hands clutching his head, he started screaming in agony. He abruptly jerked upright and Kaslyn glimpsed his wide open eyes were covered by a milky white film.

"Maker's breath!" Ser Jory invoked at this display.

Daveth abruptly pitched forward again, dropping to his hands and knees. He clutched at his throat with one hand as he started gasping and choking.

"I am sorry, Daveth," Duncan said solemnly.

The rogue slumped further to the ground, struggling in vain to breathe, and finally collapsed face down on the cobbles. He was dead.

"Step forward, Jory," Duncan intoned inexorably, turning towards the knight with the chalice.

"But I have a wife! A child!" Jory protested. He reached out and seized his greatsword lying on the nearby table. "Had I known -!"

"There is no turning back," Duncan stated adamantly, his deep voice lending an air of ominous authority to his words.

"No!" Jory cried out in panic, "You ask too much!"

Duncan set the cup aside, eyeing the knight narrowly. He slowly drew a dagger.

"There is no glory in this!" Jory insisted. Backing up, he was clearly surprised when his retreat abruptly ended at the ruined wall. Seeing Duncan advance towards him with the knife, Jory scowled and took a wild swing. Duncan parried the much larger sword, not once but twice, before swiftly closing in and driving his blade up underneath Ser Jory's ribs and into the knight's heart. Ser Jory slumped forward onto the Warden's shoulder, a look of complete disbelief on his face.

"I am sorry," Duncan said gravely. He briefly closed his eyes in a sincere expression of deep regret. Jerking his dagger free, he stepped back. The knight's body collapsed to the ground, a pool of blood spreading rapidly around it. Immediately, Duncan turned back towards the cup. He caught the distress on Alistair's face and Kaslyn's horrified mien as they both stared at where the knight lay. "But the Joining is not yet complete," he said relentlessly as he presented the goblet to the Dalish. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good."

Kaslyn looked up at Duncan and accepted the chalice in both hands, turning her face aside momentarily as the odd scent wafted to her nose. Dalish did not submit to anything, the wayward thought crossed her mind. She peered inside at the dark fluid swirling there and saw her own distorted reflection. This was it. One way or another, she knew, she would be free. She raised the chalice to her lips and swallowed a mouthful.

"From this moment forth, _you_ are a Grey Warden," Duncan announced.

Lowering the cup, she handed it back to Duncan and noted both him and Alistair stepping back away from her. The blood burned like fire over her tongue and down the back of her throat where it exploded into the bottom of her empty stomach. Intense pain caught her breath as her own blood seemed to ignite from within and suddenly rushed throughout her body. Kaslyn bent forward slightly, raising her hand to her bowed forehead as a wave of dizziness surged through her. Ostagar and everything around her was abruptly swallowed by darkness as a huge shadow swept over her. She gasped as the night was unexpectedly riven by a tremendous roar and a blast of flame thundered down from overhead. On impulse she rocked backwards defensively. She slowly lowered her hands to find herself in a pool of fire reaching as high as her waist. Despite the raging heat, she somehow remained unburned. Beyond the blaze a hideous thing roared over her. Kaslyn had never seen a dragon but this twisted creature before her could not have been anything else. Its dark hide looked raw, stretched thin to the point of agonizing creases over the skeletal framework underneath it. Tattered-edged wings with the frames covered in sores rose above it in huge sails. Like the darkspawn bear she had encountered, bony spears poked through the straining hide at its various joints and down its long backbone. More spines flared from the back of its head behind its eyes, and several jagged spikes hung over the front of its gaping maw like broken, mismatched fangs. Its glaring orange eyes burned with pain, fear, sorrow, and hate. The emotions broadcast were so raw, deep, and powerful, Kaslyn felt them threaten to engulf her but she fought them off and denied them with all of her will. These were not her feelings and she refused to have them imposed on her.

Suddenly Kaslyn heard her name unexpectedly called, and a shadowy figure seemed to materialize from the surrounding darkness. Focusing her gaze, she was startled to discover it was Tamlen. The once-proud Dalish hunter was thin, and pale, and the patches of darkness she had dreamed previously had spread further over the visible portions of his face, arms, and legs. "Reach for me, lethallan!" Tamlen cried in a hoarse voice and held out dirty hands to her.

She started to gladly reach towards him. This was friend, clan, and family, her heart sang. Suddenly she stopped. There was more singing in her blood than the call of Dalish kinship, she realized. There was another subtle strain but it was delicately sinister and darkly seductive this beguiling song and Kaslyn found herself uncertain. She peered more closely at Tamlen. His blond hair was thinner, his eyes looked oddly cloudy, and there was something about him that her instincts insisted was Not Right. She remembered the last time she dreamed of him and both her face and hands fell.

"What are you doing, lethallan?" Tamlen demanded. "You've got to get out of there or the fever will consume you!"

Fever? She blinked and glanced at the fire flickering around her, feeling the heat washing through her. Then her eyes went back to the hunter.

"You let me fall."

Her words were hushed but they abruptly sounded louder than the inferno blazing all around her. She spoke again even more strongly, "I tried to help you … and you let me fall."

"There's nothing to be done for me," he replied, a strange desperation on his face.

"So now you want to help me?" She asked incredulously.

"Come with me, lethallan," Tamlen urged, "We can be together again…."

Her breath caught as her heart was tugged with that plea but her instincts were clamoring against the sentiment. She could give in, go with him, and they would be together the elusive refrain in her blood hummed softly, but somehow she knew with strange conviction that if she did, everything that made her distinctly _Kaslyn_ would be consumed in tainted shadow-fire darker than the blackest moonless night. She slowly shook her head. The warped dragon grew angry and they both winced at its shrill scream. She did not care. She could feel her own anger beginning to spark. "Tamlen said he would do anything for me," she told the shadow elf before her, "and him I believed." She glared at this image defiantly. She couldn't even associate this shade with his name any longer. "_My_ Tamlen would _never_ have let me fall!"

"I was trying to protect you," the other elf insisted.

"And now?" Kaslyn scoffed, uncaring that the flames were growing hotter around her. Her kindled temper was at least as furious as the surrounding blaze.

"What will you have out there?" He taunted her, "No clan. No family. You'll be all alone."

His words touched on a buried fear and she was momentarily jarred from her fury. Her clan might love her but they were not here now. She was already on her own. Suddenly she recalled Duncan's kind concern for her health since the beginning and his unwavering confidence in her during the knight's accusations. She remembered Alistair's playful humor restoring her laugh and his gentle compassion tending her injury. Tamlen would never have accepted companionship from humans but she was not him. Kaslyn slowly shook her head again. "You're wrong," she softly answered the ghost, "I'm not alone and even if I was, it wouldn't matter. Whatever else is out there, I will shoulder or not on my own terms." She stood straighter and her voice strengthened, "Because I am Dalish; Keeper of the lost lore; Walker of the lonely path! I am the last of the Elvhenan and never again shall I submit – not to this and not to anything else!"

Suddenly the elf facing her seemed to shudder and bow inwards. To her complete surprise, when he looked up at her again the image of Tamlen smiled at her. It was somewhat pained but it was reminiscent of the admiring smile she remembered craving for most of her life. "Go, Kas," he encouraged her softly before he hesitantly added, "and always remember that … a Dalish hunter fears nothing." He backed away and seemed to melt into the darkness beyond.

Staring into the shadows, Kaslyn didn't know what to make of those final words. She almost called her clanmate's name and started to reach for him again but stopped herself. She didn't know if that had truly been Tamlen or an attempt to trick her but she knew what she had to do now. Her furious eyes turned on the menacing beast looming over her. She recognized it for what it was now. Daggers abruptly in hand, she leaped through the blinding fire towards the roaring Archdemon.

Alistair looked on anxiously as Daveth accepted the cup. He stepped back, uncertain of what to expect but aware that some reactions to the Joining could be violent. He was sad and disappointed when Daveth succumbed to the darkness and slumped to the ground. Ser Jory's unexpected refusal of the chalice surprised him but not Duncan's reaction to it. Alistair had hoped the knight would rise to the challenge and survive. He was shocked when the man actually snatched up his blade against the senior Warden. Without a word he held out his hand to warn Kaslyn back from getting involved in the matter. Grey Warden secrets were kept for a reason. She didn't move, however, and only stared aghast as the knight's defiance reached its sudden but inevitable conclusion. He watched her as Duncan approached with the chalice. Tearing her attention away from the knight to focus on the elder Warden, her face became calm, almost serene. She looked briefly into the contents of the goblet before taking a swallow. Recalling the tankard of ale the previous evening, Alistair had no doubt she had sampled a respectable portion of the blood. He moved back, watching apprehensively when the symptoms overcame her and she shook her head with a gasp. He recalled his Joining all too well and wondered if she was experiencing the same effects he did. When her bowed head abruptly snapped up, he saw that her large eyes were wide and completely opaque like Daveth's had been but unlike the rogue, the following spasm jerked her upright from her head all the way to her feet; the involuntary twitches in her toes causing her to half twist and topple backwards towards the stones.

"Alistair -!" Duncan prompted, hastily setting the chalice aside on the table before turning back to oversee the situation.

The young Warden needed no urging and jumped forward quickly to catch the Dalish before she could crash to the cobbles. His surprise at how remarkably little she seemed to weigh was immediately overridden when he noticed the tremors cascading through her slim body. Kneeling, he laid her gently on the ground then pressed his fingers to the pulse in her warm throat. The beat was strong but fast and erratic and did not reassure him. Feeling awkward and self-conscious, he hesitated before reaching up to push some of her thick hair away from her closed eyes. As his fingers brushed her sweaty forehead he was startled and paused to be certain. Alarmed, his breath caught in his throat. This sort of extreme reaction was distinctly _not_ normal. Alistair looked fearfully at his friend, "Maker's breath, Duncan! She's burning up!"

Crouching on the cobbles on the other side of the elf's shivering body, a grave expression settled over Duncan's face. He removed one of his gauntlets to reach for Kaslyn's pulse and felt her forehead as Alistair had done. He frowned and quietly responded, "I feared as much. She has been tainted for too long. It is an all or nothing effort for her now."

"All or nothing?" Alistair asked uneasily.

Duncan nodded soberly, "Kaslyn will either survive as a Grey Warden or she will die – and soon."

As the two Wardens watched, the Dalish gasped softly and her hands twitched. Except for her quivering, she went motionless and her breath grew still, catching once. She shook her head once slightly and her brows contracted downward. Kaslyn's face cleared before her head shook again. She took a deep breath and her hands trembled again as her features deepened into a vague scowl. Silently Alistair urged her to fight. He hoped that was what her reactions meant, that she was fighting. He glanced apprehensively at Duncan and was startled to notice the older Warden beginning to appear more and more expectant.

Suddenly Kaslyn inhaled sharply and her eyes snapped open. Instantly she stiffened and instinctively scuttled back away from the two strangers looming so closely over her. The back of her head bumped the corner of the forgotten table at the same time her waking mind recognized Duncan and Alistair, and her initial impulse to escape subsided.

"It is finished," Duncan announced with a pleased expression, "Welcome."

Sitting up further, she pressed the heel of her hand to her head and tried to focus the scrambled wits under her mop of hair. Still feeling somewhat stupid, Kaslyn blinked at her surroundings and looked up at the Wardens as they rose to their feet. She heard Alistair speak while her mind sorted the recent confusion.

"Two more deaths," Alistair was saying, "In my Joining, only one of us died but it was … horrible." He looked at Kaslyn and smiled, "I'm glad at least one of you made it through."

The Wardens each offered the Dalish a hand to rise. She went momentarily still then slowly reached out to them both. Effortlessly, they pulled her to her feet.

"How do you feel?' Duncan inquired.

Kaslyn hesitated again, eyes downcast, trying to secure the last of her scattered thoughts. There was a really nasty flavor lingering in her mouth. She cleared her throat, swallowed, and softly replied, "I … don't think anything could have prepared me for that but … it's over now and … I'm fine." She seemed to be saying that a lot lately. With the abrupt cessation of her fever, she realized how much effort her body had been dedicating to battling the taint, and although she was immensely tired, she also felt relaxed as though a great tension had at long last been released. Her sickness was gone and her life was her own again. The priorities were different, she sensed, but they were once again hers to choose. She blew out a short breath before looking up at each of them.

"Such is what it takes to be a Grey Warden," Duncan responded, pulling his gauntlet back on. As Joinings went it had been one of the more brutal rituals but at least one of the three recruits had survived. Daveth's death had been unfortunate but he was able to live a little while longer and he had been brave enough to accept the chalice. Jory's reach for his blade and insistent refusal had left Duncan no choice and it had brought him no pleasure to end the knight's life. The Blight demanded sacrifices from them all. Thankfully, Kaslyn stood there as proof that not all sacrifices were made in vain. The Dalish was alive and was now immune to the taint that had almost taken her life. Gratified that she had survived, he returned to the table to retrieve her weapons.

"Did you have dreams?" Alistair asked her, "I had terrible dreams after my Joining."

"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do," Duncan reassured as he handed the Dalish her weapon belts. "That and many other things can be explained in the months to come." He watched as she pulled the straps over her shoulders and fastened them into place. "Take some time, Kaslyn," Duncan gently urged her, "When you are ready, I'd like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king." He was amused to see a familiar gleam of curiosity in her eyes when she looked up at him.

"What kind of meeting?" Kaslyn inquired.

"The king is discussing strategy for the upcoming battle," Duncan explained, "I am not sure why he has requested your presence." He added, "The meeting will take place in the king's tent to the south. I trust you know where that is?" She nodded. "Please attend as soon as you are able."

She wavered then gestured at the bodies nearby and quietly asked, "What about…?"

"Our Brother Wardens will take care of them," Alistair hastily assured her. He was aware of the others' discreet presence, ensuring that the area was deserted so the ritual might be conducted in private. Alistair was more than a little delighted Kaslyn had survived. He hadn't grown up with any siblings and those who had shared Templar training with him had all been men. All the other Wardens were human men as well and now they had a Dalish sister Warden. This could prove interesting. His attention was diverted from Kaslyn's understanding nod by Duncan gesturing for him to leave her alone for now. Both men turned and walked towards the ramp and back towards the encampment.

Kaslyn slowly turned her back on the remains of her fellow recruits. She was mildly disappointed that easy-going Daveth had not survived. Despite his shady past and dubious 'charms', she thought they might have eventually been friends. As for the knight, she had been shocked by Ser Jory's resistance to the Joining. Duncan had told them more than once that there was no turning back after they returned from the Wilds and Kaslyn had known that to be especially obvious once the senior Warden had explained to them what the Joining actually entailed. There was clearly a reason no one knew Grey Warden secrets and she had not been truly surprised to witness the lengths to which Duncan would go to keep certain matters private. She shook her head reflectively. Even as impulsive as she could be, she had recognized and respected the senior Warden's formidable resolve. She looked up into the night sky. Wisps of thin, purple clouds were beginning to drift into view, but the bright, full moon was still clearly visible. Apparently the Keeper had been correct - as usual, Kaslyn thought with a small smile - the Creators had intended for her to become a Grey Warden. She had survived the blood and now her scent would carry that hint of shadow like Duncan and Alistair…. "Survived the blood…," she vaguely muttered under her breath. Her eyes suddenly snapped wide. Instantly she spun and dashed for the ramp the Wardens had just used.

"Duncan, I've never covered so much ground in my life as we did today!" Alistair quietly shared with a grin as they descended the ramp.

"I am not surprised," Duncan replied, with an amused smile, "You can tell me all about it later, Alistair. For now, I'd like for you to get a few of the other Wardens and have them take care of Ser Jory and Daveth, please. I know it is after the dinner hours, but if you can, please get something for yourself and Kaslyn to eat. I'm sure you're quite hungry by now and I suspect she will be soon. She will need some time to recover despite her abrupt awakening…." Standing at the bottom of the ramp, Duncan was about to issue more precise instructions to Alistair concerning the disposition of the remains of the deceased recruits, their effects, and Kaslyn's recovery, when they were interrupted by a soft noise. They looked around to see the Dalish landing unobtrusively on the cobbles nearby. As they watched, she sped over to the next ramp, somersaulted to the bottom of the second decline, and raced off into the rest of the encampment. The two remaining Wardens exchanged an astonished glance before both burst out laughing.

"So much for Kaslyn's recovery time," Alistair roared.

Duncan nodded, wiping moisture from his eyes. He had needed a good laugh and the wry thought occurred that he might have his hands full now that the Dalish was no longer inhibited by her illness. "Nevertheless," he finally attempted to caution, "She will likely not be at her best until sometime tomorrow…."

"Maker help us then," Alistair quipped, setting off another round of mirth.

Kaslyn slid to a stop outside the enclosure where the sick mabari was kept. Seeing her arrival, the dog got stiffly to his feet, wagging his tail slowly. The kennel master spotted her and quickly approached. "The mabari is still stable but hasn't improved," he told her. "Unless I get that herb I told you about…."

Kaslyn rummaged around in her pack and produced a handful of the blossoms she had collected. "Is this the flower you're looking for?"

She handed them to the swarthy man who examined them closely, "Let me see…. Yeah, that's exactly it! Wonderful!" Smiling broadly, he led her over to a small workstation consisting of a small table with a chair and a nearby chest where he obviously worked on crafts pertaining to the care of the hounds. "Give me a moment and I'll make this into an ointment."

Kaslyn watched his preparations with interest and after a few minutes, he took the finished medicine back to the pen. Kaslyn wondered how he was going to treat the hound with a salve, figuring it would have been easier to simply let the dog drink the infusion through his muzzle but the man assured her that the thicker substance would be more potent. He carefully smeared the ointment all over and inside a large bone, then entered the pen with the mabari. With a gesture the hound obediently sat on his haunches, and the man carefully held the bone under the dog's nose. The mabari sniffed the offering curiously and tentatively licked at it. The kennel master motioned and the hound obediently lay down in the straw with an eager expression on his face. Smiling, the man placed the medicated bone between the dog's front feet. When he withdrew his hand, the mabari began to lick the treat, ingesting the medicine as he did so. The kennel master wiped his fingers off on a rag while he waited and watched the hound. The dog continued to clean the bone of the residue and seemed to become more enthusiastic about his business as he did so. Pleased, the man exited the enclosure. He looked at the Dalish and said, "He looks better already. I'm sure he'd thank you himself if he could."

Kaslyn returned his relieved smile with one of her own and asked, "What will happen to him now?"

"Let's give him a day or two to recover," the kennel master responded. He watched the occupied mabari for a few moments then looked speculatively at the hunter, "Why not come back after the battle? Perhaps we can see about imprinting him on you."

"Me?" She was surprised he would suggest such a notion. She hadn't sought the flower with any sort of reward in mind; she simply wanted to help the hound recover if she could. The thought intrigued her as she considered the dog again but she looked back at the man and was forced to admit, "I'm not sure I'd have time to care for him properly."

Grinning at her, he replied in his soft drawl, "You'd be surprised; it could be the other way around. Mabari are supremely intelligent and they're excellent hunters and fighters." He glanced at the hound again then looked at her once more and urged, "Come back after the battle and just … take another look."

Kaslyn nodded. She dug more flowers out of her pack and left them with the master who was delighted to receive them. With one final glance at the busy mabari, she turned and started back into the rest of the camp. She was about to go see the Quartermaster when it occurred to her that, given the hour, Master Mortimer might have already left his forge for the day. She also recalled Duncan's request to join him as soon as she was able. The medicine for the ailing mabari she felt had been imperative but she supposed she could wait to sell off the things collected in the Wilds. Self-consciously she realized that after spending the day wandering the wilderness, she really didn't have the time to get properly clean before meeting the king again. It couldn't be helped, however, and wondering if King Cailan truly remembered who she was or had simply invited the new Grey Wardens in general, she turned her steps to the royal enclave.

Just outside the entrance to the king's tent, she encountered a pair of guards and introduced herself. "Hello. I'm expected. My name is Kaslyn of…." She stopped, suddenly uncertain of what to say. Did she claim her clan still or the Grey Wardens now?

Fortunately, the guards did not notice her dilemma and one of them responded, "Well met, Warden. Go on in."

She nodded ambiguously and, taking a deep breath to grab her nerve, warily entered the large tent. Constructed of heavy canvas in a crème color, the layout appeared to be similar to the Warden tent, although it was more spacious than the Wardens' quarters and brightly lit with a few standing lamps. A large, ornate chair and an equally elaborate desk covered with numerous papers stood on the left before an opening which led to a private retreat behind the public area. On the righthand side of the pavilion was a long table. Various maps were spread in the center of the wide tabletop while both ends hosted casual bowls of fruit, platters of cheeses, meats, and other dainty foods, as well as a few golden goblets and a small number of wine bottles. Two more king's guards were stationed at the entrance to the private area and another pair stood near the map table. They all wore heavy chainmail of gleaming silverite and carried a variety of weapons.

She and Duncan spotted each other simultaneously and he signaled her to join him with a raised chin. Quickly she made her way through the other mingling strangers to his side. Duncan quietly inquired, "I assume you have visited your sick friend?"

Kaslyn nodded and replied with a merry grin, "He apparently enjoyed the flowers and looks to be on his way to a full recovery."

The Warden smiled with pleasure, "I am glad to hear it." Before either of them could say anything else, they were approached by a dour-looking, older man. He was dressed in heavy, dull silverite platemail and wore a sword and shield over his back. His greying, dark brown hair was long enough to brush the collar of his armor and he wore the front in two braids to keep it from his clean-shaven face. The senior Warden straightened his shoulders and greeted him. "Teyrn Loghain. How do you do this evening?"

"I do well, Duncan," the teyrn responded somewhat coolly. His grey eyes came to rest on the Dalish standing near them and he turned his attention to her. "You are Duncan's new Grey Warden, I assume."

Raising her head to squarely meet the appraisal, she replied, "Yes, I am Kaslyn. How did you know?"

A hint of amusement crossed his solemn features at this casual response and he answered in his deep, gravelly tone, "His Majesty could not contain his excitement over your meeting. How could I _not_ hear about you?" Taking a drink from the goblet he held, his sharp gaze flickered briefly to Duncan then back to her and he continued, "Cailan's fascination with the Wardens goes beyond the ordinary. Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?"

Recalling her talk with Alistair the previous evening, Kaslyn nodded, "Yes, I've heard that."

"Maric respected the Grey Wardens. They have an honored place in the hearts of our people." He paused then said, "But Maric would have understood that it takes more than legends to win a battle. That's not an argument I'll repeat here."

Kaslyn said nothing even as her head tilted ever so slightly and one eyebrow twitched involuntarily at him. She noted his dismissive tone when speaking of the Wardens but wondered what the teyrn thought there would be an argument about exactly. She had not been reassured by the king's fascination with legends either. Still, it was not her place to make such a comment and she held her peace, watching the man with a calm gaze.

He studied her for a moment longer, as if trying to assess her thoughts. A hint of a smile touched his mouth and in a warmer tone he said, "I see you're a Dalish. Maric knew a Dalish elf once; never saw an equal with the bow before or since." He eyed her again over the rim of his raised cup and mused dryly, "I don't suppose you'll be riding into the thick of battle with the rest of your fellows, will you?"

Having only just returned from the Wilds and survived the Joining a little while ago, Kaslyn had no idea what she would be asked to do next, let alone what her role in the next battle would be. With a quick glance at Duncan she answered, "I don't know."

"If Cailan has his way you will," the teyrn murmured grimly. He turned slightly at a sudden commotion. Kaslyn and Duncan also glanced around and saw that the king in his golden armor had joined the rest of those gathered in the forefront of his tent. She looked back and saw the teyrn watching her again. He lowered his voice as if for her ears alone as he suggested, "Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom … if you're the praying sort."

Kaslyn forbore to mention that the Dalish had no kings; she was a guest here in the Ferelden monarch's tent, after all. Replying in a similarly quiet tone, she inquired curiously, "And if he doesn't?"

His eyebrows twitched at her unexpectedly direct question and he replied, "Then simply pray." He turned and left to make his way to the large table.

With Cailan's appearance, everyone began moving towards the map table. Indicating Kaslyn should follow him, Duncan circled to the far side, leaving the nearer edge for the others. He had discreetly monitored the conversation between the teyrn and the newest Warden and had been pleased with her conduct. He had wondered why Cailan had specifically requested the Dalish's presence at the meeting tonight but after considering her initial reactions to himself and to the king, and after having observed her coolly respectful interview with the teyrn, he thought he might have some idea of why the monarch found her so captivating.

As Kaslyn watched silently, the king welcomed everyone present and the war council was called to order. Discussions of the army's status immediately commenced. The four, armed and armored men, banns whose lands apparently lay between between Denerim and Ostagar, all reported that their troops were at full strength and ready for the upcoming battle. The old woman dressed in red and gold robes with elaborately embroidered sunbursts was easily identified as the Chantry's revered mother. From under her grey hair which was severely twisted into two buns at the nape of her neck, her eyes swept the rest of those in the room as she assured the king that the Chantry was organized to supply whatever support they might be called upon to render. Looking over Kaslyn with prim expression and a curiously arched brow, the Chantry woman gave an even more disapproving glare at the bald man dressed in green and purple robes who stood slightly apart from the rest. Uldred, as he was addressed, informed those gathered that the Circle of Magi was also quite prepared for the following day's efforts.

"I have one particular point of business to bring before your Majesty," Bann Felerin remarked at the end of these official statements. He wore heavy, grey platemail and carried a huge hammer strapped to his back. His brown eyes darted across the table towards the Wardens. King Cailan arched his eyebrows at the dark-haired bann and then glanced at Duncan before turning his gaze back to the noble. Bann Felerin smiled deferentially at the king and explained, "One of my commanders came to me with a concern that the Grey Wardens had recruited an elven apostate who used forbidden magic to incapacitate four of my soldiers. He says he went to the Warden Commander to address the situation but his charges were denied."

King Cailan turned his curious regard to the two impassive Wardens and asked, "Duncan? What is he talking about?"

Duncan looked at the king without concern and replied, "Evidently four of Ser Jamerly's men mistook Kaslyn for someone else, your Majesty. The misunderstanding was corrected in short order. The charges of magic were refused because none was involved in the incident."

The king considered the Warden Commander for a moment longer before he turned to the noble, "Apparently the situation has been resolved, Bann Felerin. Is there anything else?"

Eyes wide with disbelief, the bann divided his frown between the Wardens and his monarch. "You're seriously -! Ah …, no, your Majesty," He composed himself as he stood straighter and continued, "Perhaps I was unacquainted with all the pertinent details of the encounter."

Reports continued, but Kaslyn, still somewhat distracted by her recent illness and her weariness, grew bored quickly and paid little attention to it. From what bits she did catch, it involved people or places she knew nothing or little about anyway. She studied the maps of the ruins and the surrounding area that were spread out on the table. They were upside down to her but she could understand them well enough. Eventually, the forceful tones of the king drew her attention back to the conversation again.

"Loghain, my decision is final. I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault."

The older man was not put off, however. "You risk too much, Cailan. The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing 'hero' on the front lines."

"If that's the case," the king immediately responded, "perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us after all."

"I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves," Teyrn Loghain growled, turning away from the monarch.

"It is not a 'fool notion'," King Cailan shook his golden head and gestured emphatically, "Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past." He paused then firmly added, "And you will remember who is king."

The older man rubbed at his forehead with one gauntleted hand and grumbled, "How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!" He looked back at the king, raising both clenched fists in a gesture of frustration.

"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they?" The younger man retorted. He turned and addressed the Warden. "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"

With a curt nod, Duncan replied, "They are, your Majesty."

King Cailan's eyes at last focused on the Dalish and he asked, "And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road? Kaslyn, isn't it?" He smiled winningly at her, "I understand congratulations are in order."

Startled he would remember her or think anything about her joining the Grey Wardens, Kaslyn smiled bashfully and courteously responded, "Thank you, your Majesty."

"Every Grey Warden is needed now," he assured her kindly, "you should be honored to join their ranks."

Teyrn Loghain cleared his throat, drawing the king's attention back to himself, and observed, "Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan. We must _attend to reality_," he pointedly added.

"Fine," the king acquiesced, "Speak your strategy." He turned and bent to rest his gauntleted hands atop the map of Ostagar on the table in front of the Wardens. "The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines… and then?"

Tensely, Teyrn Loghain also turned and leaned on the table next to the king. With deliberation as if he had explained this plan several times already, or was merely resigned to the king's insistence on being in the vanguard, he grated, "You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover -!"

"To flank the darkspawn, I remember," the king interrupted. He gestured with one hand to the map before him and asked, "This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Well, who shall light this beacon?"

Seeing he had the younger man's interested cooperation, the teyrn straightened and replied, "I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task but it _is_ vital."

"Then we should send our best," King Cailan announced and stood as well, "Send Alistair and Kaslyn to make sure it's done."

Kaslyn's eyes blinked wide with surprise at the king. She wasn't the only one to turn that expression on him. Recalling she was now the newest member of the order, and thinking of her fellow junior Warden, she volunteered, "If it's not dangerous, I can do it myself."

"No," the king firmly responded, "It's best that you both go."

"You rely on these Grey Wardens too much," Teyrn Loghain noted with a piercing look at his king, "Is that truly wise?"

"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain!" King Cailan protested. He gestured across the table. "Grey Wardens battle the Blight no matter where they're from."

Kaslyn had deduced that the teyrn still bore a great deal of animosity towards Orlais but wondered why his dislike seemed to include the Grey Wardens. Although his features were dark like a Rivaini, she remembered that during their travel Duncan had once mentioned being originally from Highever. Alistair claimed to be from Redcliffe. As far as she knew, she had been born in the Brecilian Forest and had never set foot outside Ferelden. She was distracted by Duncan's voice.

"Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the Archdemon appearing," the Warden Commander suggested.

"There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds," the teyrn reported with a glance at the king.

King Cailan looked at the senior Warden and asked, "Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?"

Clearly disconcerted at the swift dismissal of his caution, the senior Warden answered reluctantly, "I … yes, your Majesty."

Kaslyn was intrigued at Duncan's hesitant response and was curious why his acquiescence was so awkward. Given the nature of the teyrn's arguments, she wondered if the senior Warden's counsel had been a subtle attempt to warn the king off of fighting in the forefront with the Wardens. She could certainly understand why Duncan might not want the added concern of keeping Ferelden's king alive during a major engagement with the darkspawn.

Before anyone else could say anything, Uldred hastily stepped forward and insisted, "Your Majesty, the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi -!"

"We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage," the revered mother snapped, also coming forward, "Save them for the darkspawn."

Yet there were magical healers among the mages present, Kaslyn recalled. Exactly when was it appropriate to trust people's lives to magic, she dryly wondered, twitching her nose; the Chantry really should try to clarify its rhetoric once in a while.

"Enough," Teyrn Loghain announced. "This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon." His grey eyes met the calm, steady gaze of the self-assured Dalish one last time before he turned and took a few steps away from the table.

"Thank you, Loghain," the king remarked, clasping his hands together eagerly, "I cannot wait for that glorious moment. The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil."

With his back still to those gathered at the table, Teyrn Loghain quietly concurred, "Yes, Cailan, a glorious moment for us all…."

With the plan in place, servants were summoned to pour goblets of wine to salute the success of the strategy and the next day's victory. Kaslyn was startled to be included with a cup of her own. She stopped drinking the flavorful red after the required sips for the toasts, however. The wine was all well and good – and probably would have tasted better without the lingering aftertaste from the Joining - but she was starting to get really tired and was beginning to eye the fruit and dainties with increasing interest. She forbade herself from touching anything, however. She figured the odds were good of being accused of some heinous crime should she so much as lay a single finger on anything in the king's personal tent.

"Kaslyn," Duncan said, instantly catching her attention, "I believe we are finished here for the evening. It's been an eventful day and I would like for you to return to the Grey Warden tent now to get something to eat and get some rest."

"Ma nuvenin, Duncan, and ma serannas," she quietly responded with a grateful nod and set her cup aside. He smiled at her then reached over and plucked a shiny red apple she had admired from the nearby bowl and handed it to her. She grinned in gratitude and quietly took her leave. She was about to head straight to the Warden tent when she recalled having left her bedroll at the kennels so she slipped the apple into a pouch and made a brief detour to retrieve her belongings. The hound was sprawled on his side in his straw bed, snoring loudly. Cracking one eye open when she reached over him for the bundle, his tail twitched once and he sighed deeply before going back to sleep. She whispered quiet thanks and left as silently as she arrived. Returning to the Grey Warden tent, she found Alistair, refreshed and dressed in casual clothes, cleaning his gear at the worktable.

His hazel eyes looked up when he caught sight of her entrance and he smiled warmly. "So, how did it go? Learn any vital strategic secrets?"

Kaslyn glanced towards the canvas ceiling thoughtfully before she looked at him and smirked, "Umm…, maybe."

"Oh?" he answered with a chuckle then inquired, "Anything you can share about what we'll be doing tomorrow?"

Kaslyn bit her lip and wrinkled her nose slightly before she replied, "Mm… as far as I'm concerned that's really not for me to say. It's up to Duncan to tell us what we're going to be doing." She really hoped he might talk the king out of sending them both to the tower. To her relief Alistair nodded with acceptance.

Still smiling, he amiably agreed, "I understand. You're probably right." He gestured towards the partition and said, "I thought you might appreciate being able to get cleaned up a little more thoroughly after today. It's only a couple of pails of warm water, I'm afraid, but it's better than nothing. If you're hungry, I got us something to eat." He indicated a large platter on the table at his elbow.

Approaching the table, Kaslyn peeked under the edge of the cover and discovered warm roast beef, roasted potatoes, cheese, fruit, and a few small loaves of bread. She glanced at the nearby pitcher and goblets and asked, "More cheap ale?" Her nose told her it wasn't but she asked anyway, out of politeness or some reason.

Alistair laughed at her dubious tone and said, "No, just water. I thought you might have had enough of questionable brews for one night."

She smiled in response before making her way behind the partition. The extra cots Daveth and Jory had used were gone and the wooden divider now shielded all of their beds from easy sight. Peering around the screen, she spotted two large buckets of water standing near the empty cot at the far end of the trio. She spread her fur on the bare bed and paused for a moment. The clean water was just too tempting and she decided to take advantage of the opportunity. Alistair seemed like an honorable man and she could always keep an ear on him while she bathed. Wasting no time, she stripped out of her clothes and quickly washed the day's lingering mud, blood, and stink off of herself. This was no substitute for a proper bath but it was significantly more refreshing than the brief dab she'd had before visiting Morrigan's mother. Feeling much better, she dried herself off and threw on her second set of cured leathers. She considered putting on her own casual shirt and trousers and leaving her hair down but she was uncomfortable being that informal in front of someone she had met only yesterday. Temporarily leaving her dirty leathers beside her bed and armed with only her hunting and heirloom knives, she noiselessly rejoined the other Warden in the front room. He started with surprise and abruptly stood when she appeared.

"What?" She asked coming to a stop, suddenly concerned she had done something wrong.

He grinned and responded, "Nothing! It's just … considered polite for a gentleman to rise when a lady takes a seat at the same table."

Kaslyn's brow wrinkled faintly. Curiously she asked, "Why?" She didn't think humans practiced such courtesies or manners as the Dalish did.

"It's a sign of respect," he answered easily.

She hesitated before approaching the chair where, to her further surprise, Alistair helped her scoot towards the table.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, pouring her a goblet of water and resuming his seat in the other chair.

"You know," she answered thoughtfully, absently pulling one bare foot up underneath her as she lifted the lid away from the food, "I didn't think I was but the longer that meeting went on, the emptier my stomach seemed to get."

"The king didn't have anything available?" He asked curiously and recommenced oiling his sword. "I would have thought there would've been a bowl of fruit at least."

Kaslyn looked at him wryly, "And be accused of being a thief right there in front of Duncan and everyone else in the king's tent?" She shook her head with a smirk, "I don't think so." He chuckled and she turned her attention to the available food. Using a small knife, she quickly cut one small loaf in half, piled on a few pieces of meat and cheese, put the other slice of brown bread back on top, and started munching. It tasted better than it had any right to, she decided after the first few mouthfuls, and she was hard-pressed not to wolf the rest of it right in front of him. To prevent herself from cramming the entire sandwich in her mouth, she speared a potato closer with her knife and cut it into pieces to eat. Half of her food was gone before she noticed a large trunk had been placed just inside the doorway of the tent. She drank some water to avoid rudely speaking with her mouth full and asked, "What's that?"

Alistair saw the direction of her gaze and quietly answered, "Those are Daveth and Ser Jory's effects. I don't know if there's anything you'd find interesting in there. If they made any such requests, their belongings would be sent back to their families. As it is, everything there will be sold to the Quartermaster in the morning."

Kaslyn pondered the chest for a few minutes as she chewed a few more bites. Setting her food down, she brushed off her hands, and approached the box. Hesitantly she knelt and lifted the top. Rummaging inside for a little bit, she removed a few things before she closed the lid and returned to the table with her finds. He looked over with some interest and saw she had retrieved the grey iron knife Daveth had claimed from the last darkspawn fight, a small book, and two pouches. She noted his curiosity as she sat down to finish her meal and explained, "The dagger was folded with lyrium so it's stronger, lighter, and sharper than mine. One bag is just coin and … well…, the deck of cards reminds me of the night we all played here at the table."

He nodded understandingly then abruptly brightened, "That reminds me." He reached into a small pouch on his belt and pulled something out of it. "Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining." He grinned at her dubious interest and held up his hand. From his fingers dangled a fine silver chain with a small silver circle about the size of the pad of her thumb. The center of the pendant was skillfully enameled in dark blue and inset with a tiny, silver griffon, rearing with wings elevated. Suspended from the same link as the shield swung a short, exquisite chain connected to a tiny vial of crystal quartz that was capped by silver, bound by three, delicate, silver wires, and contained a few drops of something dark. "We take some of that blood from your Joining and put it in a pendant," he quietly explained, handing it to her, "Something to remind us… of those who didn't make it this far."

Kaslyn stared at the offered chain, and then tentatively accepted it. She sat with it in her hands in her lap and just looked at it as she thoughtfully chewed her lower lip. After a while she heard Alistair quietly ask.

"Kaslyn? Is something wrong?"

She looked up and considered him. Duncan wasn't back yet and this was supposed to be a brother Warden now - a clanmate of sorts, she reckoned. Maybe he would have a suggestion for her. She took a deep breath and admitted, "I'm a little confused…." At his inquisitive expression, she continued, "I've… always been Kaslyn of clan Mahariel … but… that's not exactly … all I am now, is it? I don't know … how to introduce myself now."

He was momentarily silent before he spoke. "I know many Wardens give up their family names when they join the order as a symbolic gesture of cutting ties. Not that you have to do that," he hastily added.

"I don't want to lose my heritage…," she admitted softly, remembering Keeper Marethari's parting words and fingering the strands of the beaded necklace she already wore. She sighed deeply and admitted, "But I can't go back either." She slowly started to unwind the string from her neck.

Alistair never wanted to return to the Chantry or even really back to Redcliffe. The Grey Wardens had been his family since his Joining but he vaguely understood how others might have actually liked their previous homes. He didn't want to make things worse for her but he didn't quite understand so he tried to be gentle as he asked curiously, "You can't go back? Not ever?"

Kaslyn removed the long necklace she wore and twirled it until it was wound around the fingers of her hand. Regarding it for a few moments, she tucked it into a pouch at her belt. Her blue eyes travelled up to meet Alistair's inquiring gaze. One corner of her mouth twitched as she told him. "I left my clan five days ago. It would take me at least another four to get back to where they were camped. The Keeper ordered the clan to move north the day Duncan recruited me. They were leaving …," she glanced away, "to get away from a hostile village and the darkspawn the Keeper felt were beginning to invade the area." Her eyes drifted back to the silver chain in her hands as she quietly finished, "Even if I went back, they're not there and after nine days, there's no way to know where they are now. I _might_ be able to track them if I left now, but I'd be going back on my clan's promise to aid the Grey Wardens during a Blight, and if I wait until it's over …."

"Oh," the young man quietly offered, feeling lame, "I'm sorry." Embarrassed, his eyes dropped to the table before him.

"Don't be," she told him. Their gazes met as he looked up at her again. A small, sad-sweet smile appeared on her face and she said, "I knew what would happen when I left with Duncan and I did it anyway." She held up the Warden amulet and studied it. Turning the small circle, she saw something engraved on the back. "What's this?"

He smiled and replied, "It's the Grey Warden motto: In war, victory; In peace, vigilance; In death, sacrifice, and the year you Joined." He wasn't surprised if she couldn't read it. Not everyone was force-fed a Chantry education after all.

She arched an eyebrow at him then nodded once and asked, "Do all Grey Wardens get a special necklace like this one?"

Smiling, he briefly shook his head at her constant curiosity and answered her question by pulling his own amulet from his shirt. His silver griffon reared amidst a blue field over a tiny, quartz vial on a silver bead that rested in the lower hollow of his throat. He couldn't lift up the close-fitting, knotted thong very far but she was keenly attentive as he said, "Most of them are the same circular pendant on a chain. I suppose they should be, considering we're all part of the same order, but sometimes, when … the circumstances are unusual, something a little different is created." He smiled, "In your case, I didn't think you would mind a unique design since you're the first woman - or Dalish - in a long time. Not to mention the whole looming Blight…," he hastily added. There was just something about her that called for a pendant more intricate and elegant than the bold circular slabs the rest of the male Grey Wardens wore, he thought. His was slightly different for other reasons entirely.

Turning the one she held back and forth, Kaslyn asked, "Who designed this one?"

"That one was my idea," he admitted, shrugging modestly.

"Well done, Alistair," she looked at him and smiled, "It's beautiful."

He grinned and felt his cheeks warm in shy response to her praise. "You're welcome."

Frowning mildly, she lowered her voice and asked, "I remember Duncan saying I'm a Grey Warden the moment I drank from the chalice and survived the Joining. What about Daveth or Ser Jory?"

Alistair sobered as well. He appreciated her discretion and answered similarly, "Daveth's name will be recorded as a Grey Warden. Ser Jory … won't be." He hesitated and said, "Duncan will simply explain to anyone outside the order that Ser Jory didn't make it and the knight will probably be listed among the dead here at Ostagar."

Kaslyn nodded thoughtfully. Considering the chain intently one last time, she sighed and pulled it up around her neck to fasten it. She was unfamiliar with the clasp and couldn't quite manage to catch the link with it, however.

Alistair saw her difficulty and with a grin he offered, "Here. Allow me, my lady."

She looked at the Warden warily then down towards the pendant one more time. Somewhat reluctantly, she nodded, "Please?"

He smiled and accepted the chain as she partially twisted in her chair to turn her back to him. Her damp hair was already up out of the way although wispy tendrils softly curled down the back of her neck. She watched him over her shoulder until he dropped the amulet in front of her nose then she used one hand to pull any stray strands up out of his way so he could fasten it. Deed done, he sat back and remarked, "There you go!"

The pendant rested just below the hollow of her throat and she tested the strong chain by tugging on it gently with one finger. Turning back around to face him, she grinned, "Ma serannas, Alistair."

"My pleasure, my lady," he responded with another kind smile.

She watched him curiously then asked, "What does that mean? 'My lady'? Is it a human thing? I don't belong to you, after all."

He looked at her with some surprise before he answered, "It's a term of respect for addressing women. Don't … don't the Dalish have similar terms?"

Kaslyn shrugged and fidgeted, uncertain how much she should share with Alistair. The Dalish were a private folk – even if they were both Grey Wardens now. Finally she shyly explained, "Not … exactly. There are few distinguishing titles amongst my people. Terms of respect have less to do with gender and more to do with occupation: Keeper, hunter, mastercrafter and so forth. That's why I've called you 'Warden' occasionally – to be polite."

"Oh," Alistair nodded. He grinned suddenly and said, "Well, you're my sister Warden now and any woman who can fight as well as you can definitely deserves some courtesy so I call you a lady. Think of it as a combination of the two."

She smiled. It was oddly comforting to be claimed as anyone's sister again, yet also strange to hear it from a human. Finishing off her food, she put away her prizes in another bag. She fetched her gear and, nibbling on a few grapes as she did so, started cleaning her dirty leathers. Having already attended to the majority of his arms and armor, Alistair offered to sharpen and polish her daggers. Hesitantly she agreed. She watched him furtively but when she saw that he actually knew what he was doing, she relaxed.

"They'll need a good oiling after tomorrow's storm, too," she commented after they had worked together wordlessly for a while.

"Storm?" Alistair inquired with an arched eyebrow.

Kaslyn gave him a quizzical look and explained, "The storm that should break sometime tonight or tomorrow? The air's thick with it." At his curious expression, she explained, "I can smell it coming. Can't you?"

He drew in a deep breath through his nose but all he could smell was the dubious odors of the surrounding camp. Coughing a couple of times, he sheepishly replied, "Um, no, not really." He was startled to hear her laugh softly.

"I'm not surprised," she grinned, "I can't smell much in this camp either. It was more noticeable when we were out in the Wilds today."

"Thanks for the warning," he teased wryly, grinning as she chuckled again.

They shared a companionable evening and eventually her gear finally came clean. Duncan reappeared a little while later and Kaslyn had to agree with his pointedly arched eyebrow. Wrung out from the day's events, she covered another jaw-popping yawn and bid them both a good night. She deposited her weapons and leathers on top of the nearby chest and loosed her hair before she crawled into her fur. Pillowing her head on her extra blanket roll, she was asleep as soon as she pulled the soft, warm hide up to her ears.


	6. The Tower of Ishal

_Disclaimer: Bioware owns DragonAge and all related materials – and most of the dialogue. I am simply grateful they allow others to play in their world._

_Author's Note – No Tricks! Hopefully this is a Treat! Many frantic apologies to folks for the wait. Real life became especially relentless for a while. You came to read about Kaslyn's trials and travails not mine so I will leave it at that. An exchange at Flemeth's hut is a tip-of-the-hat to David Gaider's The Stolen Throne._

_ A thousand-thousand thanks to Witchybee for graciously beta-reading this adventure! _

* * *

**Chapter Six - The Tower of Ishal**

Alistair was amused but unsurprised that both he and Duncan were awake before the Dalish the next morning. Kaslyn had understandably been beyond exhausted when she went to bed the previous night. At Duncan's request, Alistair returned to the private area of the tent and cautiously peeked around the screen. Sound asleep, Kaslyn lay on her left side, buried up to her nose in a huge, thick pelt of some sort. She probably hadn't moved all night, he mused with a faint smile. She had loosed her hair from the high ponytail she usually wore it in and the red waves spilled over the brown fur and curled off the side of the cot. With her new immunity to the taint, there was more color in her face now and she looked much healthier since only last night. It also struck him again just how pretty she was. He shook his head with annoyance. This was a sister Warden, for Andraste's sake! He should not be having thoughts like that! Alistair hastily squashed his chagrin and very quietly called her name.

The bundled pelt didn't budge.

He grinned and spoke her name a little more firmly.

She took a deep breath before raising her chin clear of the fur. Blinking sleepily, she looked around until she saw Alistair was watching her and her eyes widened. Clearly embarrassed, she sat up quickly and started rubbing her face.

"Good morning!" Alistair greeted her cheerfully, "Normally, we'd let you sleep off the effects of the Joining on the first day after, but since we've got a battle today, Duncan wants us up and ready to meet at the bonfire in a little while."

She covered a huge yawn, knuckled her eyes with her fists, and nodded before kicking her bare feet free of the fur.

Alistair's grin deepened and he remarked, "Breakfast will be waiting." He wasn't alone for very long. A few minutes after he sat down at the worktable, she appeared from the private area, geared and ready to go. Alistair gestured towards the table. "I thought you might appreciate a bit of hot breakfast," he told her. "Whenever you're ready, we need to go sell off the contents of that chest – preferably before the battle," he said, indicating the box where the other recruits' effects had been collected.

She paused at the table long enough to pick up the thick slice of toasted bread. "Let's go, then," she said, "I can eat and walk. I'm sure Master Mortimer has plenty to do this morning. Maybe we can get to him before he becomes too busy." She cautiously sniffed the toast before taking a small bite. He saw her eyebrows rise appreciably when she discovered thin slices of smoked ham hidden underneath the cheese melted atop the bread. Her eyes roamed the rest of the available food and she tentatively reached for a peach.

She continued to regard him expectantly and he asked with some confusion, "Aren't you going to eat your cereal?"

Kaslyn shook her head, wrinkling her nose briefly, and replied, "I've never liked oatmeal."

"Never?" He asked in disbelief.

She shook her head again and responded, "Nope. I tried it once and that was enough for my lifetime." Noting his befuddled expression, she sat down opposite his seat and pushed the dish in his direction.

He hesitated a moment longer before pulling the bowl closer. Picking up the spoon, he added some brown sugar to the cereal and stirred before taking the first bite. After he swallowed he inquired, "How about with raisins?"

She screwed her face up with distaste and answered, "Why do people do that? You say you don't like something and they start asking if you might enjoy it with something else. If I don't like oatmeal to begin with, why would adding raisins suddenly cause it to become appetizing? What, are they magic raisins?" Wryly amused, she watched him snatch up a napkin and press it to his mouth before he could splutter around his latest spoonful. In a perfectly amiable tone she added, "To answer your question: no, not with any raisins. That just makes it yucky _and_ lumpy." She saw his eyebrows arch curiously and noting he was too polite to speak with his mouth full, she smirked and chanted, "Not with dried grapes, not with fruit of any kind. I don't like oatmeal, on that I will not dine."

Swallowing quickly, Alistair laughed out loud and ventured, "I get the impression you might've had this conversation before."

Kaslyn's smile at his merriment faltered and her gaze dropped away from him. "Ta-…. My best friend used to always tease me about it. He would try to ply me with it every chance he got. Before he became really annoying, he started the rhyming nonsense and after that, it became a game." She looked up at him and another smile hovered around her mouth as she said, "And no, he never got me to eat any after my first try."

Alistair chuckled and continued to clean the bowl. He hadn't known her for very long but already he had little doubt that Kaslyn's determination was phenomenal - especially once her mind was made up on something. In a way, he envied that sort of stubborn confidence. They ate together quietly for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Say, Alistair," Kaslyn inquired after swallowing the last of the toast, "When will I get to meet the rest of the Grey Wardens?"

He considered the matter briefly before he replied, "You know, that's a good question." He shrugged and started scraping the tilted bowl with the spoon, "I couldn't say for certain, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised if you meet more of them after the battle."

Kaslyn nodded her understanding and started on the peach with her knife. After breakfast they agreed it was time to get to business. She offered to help carry one end of the chest but Alistair hefted it easily by himself so she followed him as they left the tent and made their way north for the Quartermaster. Heavy clouds had rolled in overnight and torches lit for the evening had been left burning in several places to illuminate the gloomy camp. Lightning flickered through the clouds and thunder occasionally rumbled, threatening the incoming storm. It was going to be a messy battlefield, they agreed. Kaslyn asked about the strange noises echoing through the air and the warrior explained that the distant horns were summoning the troops to form up ranks in the next valley.

Alistair was a little apprehensive when they finally reached the Quartermaster. He had never really owned anything of worth in his life; as a result, he didn't have a lot of practice with barter or trade, and it didn't take long for a merchant to know it. When Kaslyn adroitly stepped into the bargaining, he was startled to find that the Dalish seemed to be familiar with the game and watched with interest as she rapidly sold everything in the chest, and the extraneous items collected in the Wilds, for decent money. Afterwards, they were both surprised when the gruff smith unexpectedly insisted on supplying the Dalish with another quiver-full of arrows. The shafts were actually too long for her arm, being sized to a human reach, but there was no time to cut them down to fit her. Kaslyn smiled at Master Mortimer's concerned frown, thanked him, and assured him she could make them work anyway. "Maker be with you in the coming battle, Wardens," the Quartermaster nodded at them when they concluded their business. Alistair and Kaslyn returned to the large bonfire in front of the Warden tent where Duncan met them.

"You heard the plan, Kaslyn," the bearded veteran said, dividing a glance between the two recruits standing before him. His gaze lingered on the Dalish until he saw her eyes roll and heard a soft, resigned sigh. He briefly outlined the strategy for the young warrior's benefit before reiterating, "You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit."

"What?" The younger man exclaimed with astonishment, "I won't be in the battle?"

"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair." Duncan emphasized, "If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."

Alistair's response was sarcastic, "So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch just in case, right?"

"Hey, I tried to get you into the fight," Kaslyn murmured. "I offered to do it by myself but the king said 'no'." Now that she was back with only Duncan and Alistair, she felt she could speak her mind. She looked at the dignified Warden and told him, "I agree with Alistair. We should be in the battle."

Duncan turned a quelling gaze on her and sternly reminded them both, "That is not your choice. If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there." He straightened his shoulders and his strong tone relented somewhat, "We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn … exciting or no."

"I get it. I get it," Alistair surrendered. He was surprised to hear Kaslyn had volunteered to light the beacon alone and wondered if she hated being left behind as much as he did. His good humor rose to the occasion and he remarked drolly to Duncan, "Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold - I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."

Kaslyn peered up at him with a sly expression and remarked, "I think I'd like to see that."

Alistair looked back at her, eyes twinkling with mirth, and replied, "For you, maybe…, but it has to be a pretty dress."

Kaslyn's eyes lit gleefully as she replied, "I don't know. That could be a great distraction."

Alistair snorted and responded, "Me shimmying down the darkspawn line? Sure, we could kill them while they roll around laughing."

"Whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn," she sweetly reminded him, grinning merrily at Alistair's laughter.

Duncan groaned aloud at their lighthearted banter. They _were_ the newest and youngest members of the order, the older man recalled. He vaguely remembered being in their position long ago. Sighing at both giggling scamps, he continued and the two instantly sobered as they regarded him again. "The tower is on the other side of the gorge from the king's camp, the way we came when we arrived." His gaze rested on the Dalish and he saw she knew of the edifice. "You'll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you'll overlook the entire valley."

"Where will you be?" Kaslyn asked with a sharp look.

"I will be fighting beside the king with the rest of the Grey Wardens. Again at his request," he answered. "We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for."

Kaslyn glanced at the big man on her left and nodded. Her clan had been in a few minor skirmishes with humans before but never a full-scale battle and she didn't know what sort of signals these people might use. She had a sudden thought and eagerly asked, "Can we join the battle afterwards?"

"Stay with the teyrn's men and guard the tower," Duncan replied, watching her excited expression begin to wilt into wry resignation. "If you are needed, we will send word."

"What if the Archdemon appears?" Kaslyn asked, figuring they would surely want help if a gigantic, twisted monstrosity of a dragon arrived.

"We soil our drawers, that's what," Alistair promptly responded with a teasing glance at the elf. Andraste bless her, he thought, despite their strict orders, the Dalish's plucky spirit was clearly undeterred.

"If it does," Duncan firmly warned them, "leave it to us. I want no heroics from either of you."

Kaslyn twitched her nose. 'Heroics' implied there might be something interesting to do but from the sound of their assignment that was unlikely, she mused. She sighed and asked, "Are we in _any_ danger?"

"Of course," the senior Warden immediately replied, hiding most of his amusement at her grudging acquiescence. "Even the best laid plans go awry, so do what you must. I trust you both."

"Just not enough to actually fight with the rest of you," Alistair couldn't help dryly adding to the reluctant refrain.

Duncan finally chuckled at his keen young Wardens. "There will be plenty of battles, Alistair. Be patient."

"How much time do we have?" Kaslyn inquired after a glance at the busily humming camp around them. As bustling as it had been the day before, it was even more chaotic today with people running and orders being shouted everywhere. The sky was also growing darker and more ominous with the imminent storm.

"The battle is about to begin," Duncan acknowledged, "Once I leave, move quickly. You'll have less than an hour."

Kaslyn and Alistair traded ready glances then looked back at the senior Warden. Knowing what they had to do, even if she didn't like it, the Dalish nodded curtly, "Climb the tower and light the beacon at the signal. Understood."

Duncan was surprised by the sudden, strong urge he had to tell them how proud he was of them, how sure he was they would do well as Wardens. He reluctantly refrained - mostly. He squared his shoulders and said, "Then I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own." He divided a look of confident command between them and saw both straighten and their heads lift. "Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title."

Kaslyn hesitated then inclined her head respectfully towards him and murmured, "Creators guide your path, Duncan."

"Duncan…," Alistair paused then continued in a quiet voice, "May the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all," the elder Warden agreed. With one final look at each of them, Duncan turned and strode off.

The storm announced its arrival with blustering winds and huge strokes of lightning forking all around the Tower of Ishal. Moments later, gusty rain came sweeping through the area. Alistair looked at the Dalish and said, "Let's just get to the tower. It may not be the most glamorous job but we'd best not dawdle."

Returning his regard, Kaslyn asked, "Do you think we can watch the start of the battle at least? I mean, the tower is only right over there." She gestured eastward at the looming structure already beginning to collect faint, misty veils.

Alistair was thoughtful for a bit then shrugged, "I don't see why not. We can only watch just the initial engagement though. We do have a job to do."

Kaslyn agreed and they trotted across the camp towards the bridge connecting the two halves of the ruin. A few minutes later she and Alistair took up a position at the short wall near the top of the ramp leading down onto the span. Far below the bridge the anxious Fereldan army was assembled and waiting. Behind the jagged wooden barricades, huge bonfires had been lit to illuminate the battlefield for the archers stationed on top of tall, wooden towers overlooking the area. From her high vantage point and through the noise of the storm, Kaslyn could make out dozens of mabari restlessly prowling the frontlines and could hear the hounds' occasional barking. She wondered if Aerik and the rest of the Ash Warriors were there. She recalled Alistair's words about the Wardens being in the vanguard of the attack and figured they must also all be among the front ranks though there was no way for her to identify any of them. Something glittered oddly in a flash of lightning and her eyes caught a shiny object being swung by a Chantry priestess walking through the soldiers' lines.

"Do you see Duncan?" Alistair asked.

Kaslyn glanced over and saw the Warden resting both hands on the archer's wall, leaning over to peer at the crowd down below, much as she had been doing. She scanned the army again and after a minute she saw the unmistakable gleam of the king's golden armor and picked out the pale leather worn by the dark figure beside him. "He's right below us on the western rampart, standing to the right of the king." She looked over and saw Alistair squinting and asked, "Can you see them?"

He smiled slightly and responded, "Only just. Cailan's armor is hard to miss but Duncan is a shadow." His gaze darted towards her and his grin widened, "Or are you making that up?"

One side of Kaslyn's mouth lifted and she said, "Elvhen can see in the dark, you know."

Alistair shook his head, looking back towards the army. "Dalish eyesight is keen indeed."

Kaslyn's own smile appeared before she turned back to the gorge below their vantage point. A broad river of torches flowing through the mist-wreathed trees ahead caught her attention and her levity vanished as she realized the darkspawn had arrived. A fleeting look showed her Alistair's features had also hardened at the size of the shadowy horde facing the king's army. They watched with grim fascination as more monsters poured out from the edge of the southern Wilds. There were _so_ many... Kaslyn could make out smaller genlocks prowling and snarling amidst larger hurlocks that roared and worked themselves into frenzies at the sight of the humans arrayed before them. Metal rang as the brutes pounded the ground and any nearby rocks with their crude weapons. The emissaries amongst them, identified by the staves they held close, waited in menacing silence. She thought she might have glimpsed other, even larger, figures amidst the throng lurking through the trees but it was hard to tell with the wispy fog and the dark and the rain. The monstrous force stopped and a lone hurlock alpha stepped onto a small rise at the forefront of the horde. Kaslyn's bow-hand clenched tightly and she unconsciously tapped it on the stone before her even as she recognized the creature was out of range. The alpha looked around at its followers; the rumbling mass seething and churning as they barely held themselves in check. It drew a broadsword slowly from its back and waited a few seconds more before swinging the weapon onward. With a guttural howl, the darkspawn surged forward in a black wave of bounding genlocks and charging hurlocks.

"Creators have mercy," the Dalish whispered.

Down below, she heard King Cailan's voice bellow, "Archers!"

Kaslyn saw a forest of polished-wood bows dip. Suddenly the wings of the king's frontlines were bracketed by a warm, orange light and she realized they had ignited their arrowheads from small pots of fire. A soldier standing in front of the army lifted his arm and when enough of the brutes were sufficiently within range, he dropped it. A cloud of streaking stars arched out towards the monstrous line and Kaslyn was fiercely pleased to see so many darkspawn pierced. More poured in behind those falling to the flaming arrows, however, and the great tide of monsters rolled onward towards the king's soldiers.

Once the creatures were well inside the reach of the relentless archers, the king shouted, "Hounds!"

Kaslyn spotted another soldier at the forefront of the king's forces cast his hand forward and a flood of garishly-colored, ferociously snarling mabari flowed out from the human ranks. The darkspawn line buckled briefly as they were met by the rush of massive war-hounds. Monsters went down, overwhelmed by gleaming fangs and shredding claws, although the Dalish winced when she also caught the cries of those dogs impaled on crude darkspawn blades.

The monsters continued forward and she looked back at King Cailan who was drawing his huge greatsword from his back with one hand. He swung the mighty weapon once over his head, the long blade reflecting the lightning flashing through the clouds, and pointed it towards the darkspawn, "For Ferelden!"

War cries echoed the booming thunder and the roaring army charged toward the raging horde. Kaslyn didn't know where she should be looking as the opposing groups crashed together. Her attention was abruptly snared by the sight of huge, flaming shapes launched towards the fortress from the edge of the shadowed tree-line and soaring over the heads of the clashing forces. She pushed herself away from the wall, watching as a pair of blazing boulders arced spectacularly high and smashed into the ruins on the eastern side of the gorge, shattering tall, stone arches atop the ancient towers there, and sending them crashing into the ground and whatever was below them. That certainly made things more interesting, she observed sardonically.

Alistair lowered the arm that shielded his face from the stinging rain while he witnessed the battle start. Soldiers were rapidly dodging past him, filling positions, replenishing ammunition for the ballistae, and running quivers of arrows to the archer corps stationed on the bridge. In the gloom the slight figure of his sister Warden went almost completely unnoticed, despite her flaming hair tossing in the wind. Alistair, taller and broader than many of the men in the army, had no such trouble and saw proudly that Kaslyn took the occasional buffeting without protest or complaint when yet another soldier barreled between them and clipped her left shoulder. She was looking across the gorge; her interest apparently fixed on the fiery boulders flying through the air. "Let's cross the bridge," he urged her over the battle's clamor, "And get to the Tower of Ishal!"

Kaslyn nodded agreement. With a fleeting glance to avoid rushing soldiers and a quick hop-skip, she started down the ramp onto the span, calling back to him, "Stay close!"

The bridge was apparently a popular target, she noted, but the king – or the teyrn – was making use of every aspect of the fortress. The center of the bridge was illuminated by a huge bonfire. Where the low wall was missing on the right, devices that looked like enormous crossbows were positioned; one pointed out from the first gouge in the bridge here on the western end, and two more from the central ledge. These weapons launched massive missiles into the black horde, well past the archers or the hounds, and were promptly reloaded from a common ammunition dump stacked against the north wall and equidistant between the three siege machines. Where the right-hand wall was still intact, gangs of archers were stationed, shooting their own blazing arrows into the darkspawn. Flaming rocks were still inbound and Kaslyn recognized that whatever was launching or throwing them was getting better with their aim.

Alistair, following at her heels, noticed that the Dalish did not simply sprint recklessly across the bridge but kept to the side of the span away from the incoming barrage and timed their crossing accordingly. She was very clever estimating which boulders would miss, which would hit, and to allow enough distance to avoid the explosive shards. Several bridge soldiers were injured when they apparently did not notice or disregarded the fiery missiles impacting and shattering in their vicinities. Kaslyn drew up shortly before they reached the central portion of the span, right before a blazing stone demolished the tall, Tevinter statue standing there, and he called out to her, "Good eye!"

She flashed a smile at him, "I would have aimed for it!"

Skirting the central blaze, they stopped again just past the destroyed statue as another flaming boulder crashed into the archer group on the next section of the bridge. Alistair saw Kaslyn's head tip slightly and felt his own heart quail at the screams and cries of the wounded but that was the risk of battle and they still had their own task to perform. Even as the Wardens crossed to the eastern side, one of the archers picked herself back up, wiped her eyes clear, and resumed firing her bow. Once they were off the bridge, Kaslyn looked back at him and asked, "All right?" Alistair grinned with a thumbs-up and they ran for the tower.

Another large fire had been set to burn near the bottom of the ramp that led north up to the entrance to the tower grounds and Alistair and Kaslyn raced for it. Approaching the gateway, they saw two figures hurry down the slope and come to a stop on the path in front of them. One man was clearly a soldier but the other wore the robes of a Circle mage.

"Help me! They're everywhere!" The guard declared. Catching sight of the new arrivals, he waved urgently, "You… you're Grey Wardens, aren't you?" He gestured back at the soaring building and announced, "The tower… it's been taken!"

Scowling angrily, Alistair demanded, "What are you talking about, man? Taken how?"

The soldier turned to look back at the spire and explained, "The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers. They're everywhere! Most of our men are dead!"

Alistair glanced down, saw the cold anger on the Dalish's face, and announced, "Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!"

Joined by the guard and the mage, the Wardens ran to the top of the ramp and through the open gate. Fighting had broken out of the tower and spilled onto the grounds. Immediately Kaslyn spotted three hurlocks and a genlock assaulting two of the king's people. She dashed forward, drawing her dar'misus, but before she or the others could intervene, the soldiers were slain by the darkspawn. Within a split-second of the warriors falling, Dalish daggers were whirling amongst the monsters. Kaslyn had no time to ask the mage what spells he knew, but was abruptly reminded of Merrill when her blades magically ignited with flickering fire right before she sank them into the stunned genlock before her.

With a snarl of frustration at the unexpected and unwelcome situation, Alistair snatched his shield and blazing sword from his back and charged into the group alongside the Dalish, shouting, "For the Grey Wardens!"

While the hunter and the warrior engaged the knot of darkspawn directly, another genlock appeared and began to fire arrows at them from the shadows beneath the nearby scaffolding built around the crumbling stonework on their left. Kicking a hurlock away from her and deflecting a shaft with her dagger, Kaslyn saw the mage gesture and the genlock stiffened in place as rings of magical force spiraled up around it. Raging flames then erupted from the mage's fingers and incinerated the paralyzed archer.

"I did it! I killed one!" he shouted excitedly.

The noxious smell made the Dalish want to gag but the darkspawn in front of her demanded her attention again and she called, "Great! There's more!"

With the guard's crossbow bolts covering Alistair and the mage working with Kaslyn, the first four monsters were dispatched relatively quickly. The hurlock in front of Kaslyn died and instantly she and the Circle mage focused on the second genlock archer that had replaced the first. While Kaslyn slashed the monster with her daggers, the mage hammered it with his magic. As soon as Alistair finished the remaining hurlock and joined the Dalish, Kaslyn scarpered past the reeling darkspawn, beyond the support posts of the tall scaffold, and then up the shadowed steps that led to the overhead platform.

Alistair managed to skewer his foe and was about to follow her when he heard a growl, a grunt, and suddenly another genlock toppled over the ledge to land flat on its back right at his feet. Without hesitation, Alistair promptly stuck his sword through its chest. A moment later, Kaslyn landed lightly on the ground beside him. A quick glance showed him that the top of the scaffold was easily over twice his height above them and Alistair absentmindedly shook his head. Looking around at the soldier and the mage who joined them, he asked, "Is everyone all right?" Both acknowledged they were unhurt and he urged, "We should get a move on."

Kaslyn agreed but noted the two other men seemed somewhat unnerved and uncertain. She didn't know if Alistair had ever fought alongside a mage before, but she recalled that Merrill usually fared better with a brief rest between scraps so she could regenerate her personal magic reserves. To stall for time, she looked at their two allies and said, "I don't mean to digress from the mission but can we share some names so we're not always yelling 'hey, you' at each other?"

The mage appeared rather unremarkable for a human in both height and features. He wore his black hair pulled smoothly back to the crown of his head where his braid started before it ended dangling just below the low collar of his green and yellow robe. He had dark eyes and the jaw of his tanned face bore faint stubble like all the other men she had seen in the army camp. He wavered then grinned at her and introduced himself, "My name is Calvin, Warden."

"Pleased to meet you, Calvin. My name is Kaslyn and this is Alistair. Do you happen to know any healing spells?" She inquired. She dug around in a pouch then offered him a handful of lyrium potions of varying potencies.

Calvin grimaced and shook his head, "No. Mostly I studied primal magic: fire, lightning – or entropic: weakness, paralyze. Uldred sent me here in case Loghain's men needed the Circle for anything. Anything else, I should probably say." He accepted the potions with a nod of thanks and tucked them away in a bag tied on his belt.

The Dalish smiled, "I know someone with magic similar to yours. We should do fine." She turned her gaze to the guard and her eyes brightened as she recognized him, "We met the day before yesterday at the tower gate!" Her charming expression became rueful and she added, "I asked a lot of questions but I never asked your name."

The soldier relaxed at her easy demeanor. He didn't quite reach Alistair's height but he was taller than the mage, his pale face was narrower, and his cheeks were darker with more unshaven brown fuzz. His brown eyes looked at her in some disbelief before a modest smile tugged one side of his mouth. "Aw, you didn't ask anything I wouldn't have wanted to know myself, lass. Thommen is my name."

"You're a good shot with that crossbow, Thommen," Kaslyn said.

He blushed and replied, "That's my favorite but I can hold my own when things get personal, too." He gestured to the mace and small shield hanging alongside the quiver at his back.

"Good to know," she replied with a sharp nod. She glanced around then said, "Alistair's right. We better get going!"

The men agreed and they quickly stripped the bodies of anything useful. As they put away the coins and two acid flasks they found, Alistair privately marveled at how easily the Dalish made friends out of perfect strangers in the middle of an unexpected catastrophe during a major battle. He was startled from his thoughts when she called his name and abruptly tossed something at him. He caught it reflexively and discovered a soldier's helmet similar to the visored one that Thommen wore. The grim reason behind the steel helmet's availability troubled him but practicality recognized he would get more use out of it than its previous owner at this point so he tried it on and was pleased to find it was a good fit.

The group continued to make for the tower entrance, passing several supply wagons stored there on the tower grounds. Many wagons still contained canvas-covered cargo that the monsters apparently had yet to defile and all were neatly parked along the ruined walls bordering the gradually rising levels of this area. Between a weathered wall on the left and more wooden scaffolding on the right, the quartet hurried up the next ramp sloping to the east. Ahead of them, another large fire blazed, illuminating more fighting between the king's dying soldiers and the darkspawn. Immediately Kaslyn dashed into the thick of the fight.

Raising his crossbow to cover the Dalish, Thommen remarked, "No fear in that one at all, is there?"

Calvin barked a short laugh as he summoned his magic and replied, "Doesn't look like it."

Alistair heard no more of their talk and was soon battling darkspawn beside Kaslyn. She had stunned one genlock and slowed another with a vicious kick but that did nothing to stop the hurlock bearing down on her. She ducked the hurlock's sword then lashed out with both of her curved daggers and blood flew from all three monsters. Alistair arrived in time to use his shield to clobber the big brute to the ground before it could strike at the hunter again. A wary glance showed him the distant hurlock archer being electrocuted by a bolt of supernatural lightning arcing around its magically-paralyzed frame. Between the Wardens' blades, the magic of the mage, and the guard's crossbow quarrels, all four darkspawn were promptly eliminated.

The itching tug in Alistair's chest did not abate, but he didn't have to alert the others to more monstrous company. Arrows flying at them from his left took care of that consideration and he and Kaslyn turned to chase a genlock up the northerly ramp. Two more genlocks had taken up positions on the wooden guard platforms erected on either side of the incline at the top of which the first monster stopped and waited. If the creatures expected to draw their foes into crossfire, they were denied. As fast as the Dalish was yesterday, Alistair noted, she was even quicker today as she vaulted from the ramp onto the right scaffold and swiftly swept her daggers at the genlock before it could raise its bow at them. With his shield between himself and the archer on the left, Alistair took on the darkspawn in the center while magic and crossbow bolts pummeled the third monster and prevented it from firing at either of the occupied Wardens.

Alistair had nearly dispatched the genlock in front of him when he heard Thommen shout a warning. A quick glance over his right shoulder confirmed two more armored forms bearing down on him from the tower. Before he could react, something flickered towards his eyes and Alistair instinctively jerked his head back to protect his sight. His aversion to his opponent's dirty trick served just as well to give the cunning monster an unopposed opening, and a hard strike across his gut forced him back with a grunt. He heard a guttural snarl from the genlock, but no other blows came. Warily blinking his vision clear, Alistair found Thommen and his magically-blazing mace had closed with the darkspawn while Calvin continued to sling raw magical energy at it from nearby. Alistair's Templar training allowed him to sense that the mage's personal energies had run too low for more sophisticated spells, and the Warden started forward to the guard's aid. Slicing his sword down the howling monster's back, Alistair suddenly wondered where the Dalish had gone.

Kaslyn killed her darkspawn foe and spun in time to see the opposite genlock fall to Calvin and Thommen's combined efforts. She was about to join Alistair and their allies on the third monster when she spotted two figures struggling down the ramp from the tower entrance northwest of them. A man wearing heavy, silverite chainmail and bearing a sword and shield was fending off a heavily-armored hurlock alpha wielding a huge, two-handed axe. Alarmed, the Dalish leaped from the platform to help the embattled soldier. From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Alistair's head snapping to one side and the genlock's dagger-swipe across his stomach knocking him back a few steps. She paused uncertainly, but Alistair's splintmail withstood the blow and Thommen's flaming mace crashed against the genlock's back even as Calvin topped the ramp to better support the guard and the disoriented Warden. Clearly catching sight of the other skirmish, the mage hesitated.

"Finish it!" Kaslyn urged him, abruptly deciding that the sooner the minor threats were eliminated the sooner they could focus everything on the major. Until then, however, she would have to serve as distraction – again. She raced to the lone warrior's side, ignoring her humor's pithy comment about the habitual nature of this dubious plan.

Rapidly closing in on the other combatants, Kaslyn saw the darkspawn's double-bladed axe scythe towards the soldier who barely got his shield up in time. The broad blade sheared through part of the metal, savagely gouging the man's upper arm through the heavy pauldron plates and twisting his shoulder awkwardly, as it tore off the upper portion of the shield. Thrown off balance by the powerful blow, the man stumbled backwards while the monster brought the great weapon around and over its head. Before the final strike could fall on the wounded warrior, Kaslyn darted between the darkspawn and the man and punched her fingers through the eye-slits of its horned helmet. The hurlock's swing came to an immediate and graceless halt and the creature staggered back, shaking its head to try to clear its vision. The Dalish used the opportunity to slip behind the alpha and drove her flaming dar'misus into its back through the weak points of its rough armor. Goaded by pain, it shook off its confusion, and brought the axe up again but she smoothly ducked the sweeping stroke of the huge blade. Before she could retaliate, the alpha abruptly howled and lurched forward a few steps to reveal the injured soldier who unexpectedly reappeared and viciously slashed it across the back with his longsword. Kaslyn easily avoided a second clumsy swipe of the brute's weapon and saw the alpha jab the butt of the handle at her. Catching the haft between her scissored blades and twisting it aside, she diverted the blow then flowed with the motion to plant her foot below the monster's belt. Taking advantage of the faltering creature's sudden lack of air, the warrior awkwardly swung the remains of his shield and bashed the darkspawn away from them both.

Without warning an arcane bolt slammed the alpha's shoulder at the same time Alistair shouted, "Let's grab some glory!"

The big man's yell evidently grabbed the alpha's attention and it turned its back on the hunter and the soldier to engage the brawny Warden and the guard. Kaslyn almost smiled when the brute took on the others, and resumed her assault from the relative safety of the monster's shadow. Between the five of them, the darkspawn champion soon fell.

The knight abruptly swayed on his feet as well and both Alistair and Thommen hastily jumped forward to ease the wounded man to a seat on the foot of the ramp. Blood from his slashed shoulder had run down his left arm, stained part of his chainmail, and was dripping from his elbow. Pulling off his full helmet with his right hand, the grey-haired veteran thanked them, and then announced, "Ser Elric Maraigne at your service." He winced as Alistair expertly and carefully unbuckled the straps of his shoulder armor to get a better look at his wound.

"You're one of the king's honor guards," Thommen commented.

"You were one of the guards at the war council," Kaslyn said at the same time, recognizing him as one of the men stationed at the map table in the king's tent. She also identified the two, facing wolves painted on what was left of his discarded shield as the heraldry carried by the soldiers surrounding the king, as well as worn by others posted in and around the royal enclave.

Ser Elric nodded his head. "King Cailan sent me here to represent his interests in case Loghain's men ran into trouble." He glanced around and added, "Looks like they did."

"What's the situation inside the tower?" Alistair asked as he started using a compress to apply healing paste to the deep cut the darkspawn cleaver had left across the knight's upper arm.

Ser Elric looked at him and replied grimly, "The tower is overrun. The soulless bastards swarmed up from some lower chambers. I managed to fight my way out here but I don't think I would have gotten any further without my lady's help." He nodded respectfully towards the modest Dalish then hissed in pain at Alistair's ministrations. Raising the arm to wrap a bandage around the injury made it plain that the alpha's blow had also badly wrenched the shoulder joint. The older man waved off the Warden's apology and, glancing around at the rest, he told them, "I'm the only one to make it out of there alive."

"How many men were stationed here?" Alistair asked as he tied off the poultice.

"At least two score," Thommen answered while the knight swallowed the accompanying healing medicine. "Maybe a few more."

Alistair and Kaslyn exchanged a brief, meaningful regard. They would have their work cut out for them.

Calvin looked around at the others and asked, "What do we do now?"

Alistair was loosely securing Ser Elric's shoulder in a sling but it was Kaslyn who, after another uncertain glance at the Warden, responded quietly. "Well, our orders really haven't changed."

Alistair nodded in curt agreement as he helped the grateful knight to his feet and remarked, "We need to get to the beacon. The king needs Loghain to charge."

Thommen concurred as well, "We must get to the top of the tower."

Calvin nodded supportively.

"My shoulder's too badly injured to be of any real use to you," Ser Elric admitted regretfully. "There's nothing else I can do here."

They acknowledged the truth of that statement then Kaslyn told him, "If you can, get word to Duncan or the king. Tell them the tower was overrun but we _will_ get to the beacon." She paused before adding, "With any luck, we'll get there in time for the signal anyway, but they should still know what happened here."

"Right!" Ser Elric snapped a sharp salute to the startled Dalish before he donned his helmet, grabbed his sword, and started out of the tower grounds. The rest of the small group swept the area for anything useful then cautiously entered the looming Tower of Ishal.

~O~

"Ugh," Alistair and Thommen simultaneously commented with disgust as they stepped into the first entryway.

"What is that smell?" Calvin asked, holding one ornate sleeve of his robe up to his revolted face.

"Blood, open guts, burning flesh, and … other things," Kaslyn softly answered. She swallowed and shook her head, exhaling sharply through her wrinkled nose.

Alistair peered at the Dalish and saw that her face was set and her jaw was clenched. Catching his scrutiny, one side of her mouth lifted in a small half-smile, and she murmured, "At least we don't have to fight in the rain!"

This was Kaslyn's first foray inside man-made stone walls and she looked around with interest. The ceiling in here was so tall as to arch into shadows well over their heads but the interior walls were only about twice as tall as she was. Four statues of men in face-obscuring helmets and robes stood squarely around the middle of the room. It was evident with grisly clarity that the darkspawn had been at work in the tower for some time. Several bodies in various states of dismemberment lay strewn about the room or were impaled on scattered darkspawn pikes. Blood was liberally splashed and splattered throughout the chamber, silent testimony that the soldiers stationed here had attempted to put up a fight. As she and the others passed between the stone sentinels and approached the doorway ahead, she caught sight of a barricade made up of various pieces of short pike-fences, benches, tables, barrels, and crates all piled together. The barrier did not immediately block the entranceway, however, but instead had been heaped further inside the next room. There was a whiff of oil smoke and suddenly the blockade ignited.

Cautiously the group entered the next chamber. A broad semicircle of immense columns stood a few feet away from the curved outer walls that enclosed this cavernous space. Between these support pillars and bracketing both sides of the entryway, all manner of wooden debris had been stacked and set alight. Through the heat and flames, they saw another burning wall built out towards the middle of the room, forcing anyone entering from the front door to snake left then right and through a blazing gauntlet.

"Elgar'nan take them," Kaslyn cursed softly to the god of vengeance as they passed the doorway. Alert for an attack from the shadowy figures moving on the other side of the fires, she kept to the outer wall and away from the blaze. In the flickering light she caught sight of a thin strand shimmering just above the floor between the two columns that marked the turn in the shooting gallery. On the far side of each pillar sat a barrel that was suspiciously close to the burning debris but not actually aflame.

Kaslyn looked over to her right at Alistair and warned, "Don't look now…."

"What is it?" Alistair asked.

"Trap. Simple to see, really," Kaslyn answered. "Wait here away from that opening for bit. I won't be long."

"Be careful," Alistair warned, "We're not alone in here."

Intense heat forced her to stay away from the casks connected at either end of the line so Kaslyn crept up warily to the center of the tripwire. Taking care not to pull or strain the trigger, she quickly cut it with her hunting knife. The cord parted cleanly at the same time she glimpsed a peculiar flash ahead of her. At once she kicked herself backwards away from the severed strand just as a huge fireball exploded where she had been crouched. The magical flames detonated the nearby barrels, redoubling the force that sent her skidding along the floor and up against the back wall. Dimly she heard Alistair shout her name. She still felt scorched but her instantaneous reaction had spared her from the worst of the blast. Scrambling to her feet, she called out, "Go! Get the emissary!"

Charging past the recovering Dalish, Alistair used his shield to block the arrows fired by two hurlock archers standing behind the second fiery wall. Thommen and Calvin followed closely on his heels while Kaslyn brought up the rear after frantically slapping out any smoldering spots on her leathers. Three more hurlocks, armed with bows, were lined up along the far eastern wall to shoot down the length of the blazing passage and made for an awkward crossfire but the Wardens concentrated their efforts on finding the darkspawn mage. Rounding the end of the second flaming barricade, they immediately spotted the heavily-armored genlock waving gnarled hands alight with crackling, magical energy. It saw them coming for it, dropped the spell, and tried to outmaneuver them by scurrying for a disfigured statue in the center of the room. As the stone figures in the Wilds had been 'decorated' with horns, bones, pikes, bodies, and blood, so too was this one, but it did not deter the resolute Wardens who intuitively split their attack to come at the emissary from either side of the effigy.

"Grab it, Calvin!" Kaslyn called.

A second later, the genlock was caught within paralyzing rings of magical force, unable to even flinch as Alistair's longsword promptly lopped its head from its neck. The quartet then turned to the rest of the darkspawn. While Alistair personally taunted the aggressive attentions of the nearest hurlock pair, Calvin worked with Thommen to pick them off of the big warrior. In the meantime, Kaslyn raced across the room to occupy the other three hurlocks who were maneuvering for positions to fire arrows at them. Stunning the first darkspawn, she opened its neck with both slashing blades. It sank towards the floor, mortally wounded, and she cartwheeled over to the second hurlock to deliver a nasty kick to its midsection. While it stumbled from shock and lack of air, she spun it around between herself and the remaining archer just as an arrow sank into her foe's guts. Firmly gripping the collar of its armor, she kept her improvised shield between her and the third darkspawn and proceeded to stab her dazed prey repeatedly in the back. By the time Alistair managed to reach her, only the last hurlock was left standing. Soon all the monsters were dead. While the Wardens stripped the bodies of whatever was useful, the other two men looked for anything worthwhile in a nearby chest. Alistair, wary of any more traps and figuring the Dalish's reflexes were the quickest, indicated she should precede them further into the tower. He followed her while Thommen and Calvin guarded their backs.

An arched opening to the west let out of the great central room and into a short, curved hallway with a door on the left and the far right. Bearing left, Kaslyn paused. She began to gesture but stopped before very quietly advising them to mind the right door as well. She hesitated again when she got to the closed door and gazed questioningly over her shoulder at Alistair. He wasn't certain what she wanted to know until she silently whispered the word 'darkspawn' and he recognized she was asking if he sensed any. He should have realized. The tower was overrun with monsters but this was not the open Wilds where they could see the creatures coming. Kaslyn had only been a Warden since last night and despite her uncanny natural instincts, Alistair was still the only one able to detect their foes' proximity and give warning. He grimaced and nodded, whispering, "Close."

The Dalish pulled her daggers from their scabbards before abruptly kicking the door open and dodging between a pair of hurlocks that charged the entry. Striding into the room right behind her, Alistair rammed aside two more hurlocks with his shield and cleared the threshold so Thommen could step through and bring his crossbow into play. Soon all four hurlocks were dispatched as were three genlocks that lay fried by Calvin's magic in the hallway behind them. Obviously intending to ambush the fray from the other room, two of the stocky monsters had been incinerated by fire while the third had been electrocuted by lightning. Once the darkspawn were dead, the quartet took a moment to look around.

In the southwest corner across from the door they had entered, a pile of bodies, parts, and refuse had been left to burn; the immediate stench causing all their eyes to water and the Dalish to cough. The rest of this room had clearly been used as a small barracks of some sort. Four bunk beds were lined up against the far wall, along with a scattering of bookshelves, benches, tables and chairs. Racks for weapons also stood in random places but most of these were empty and several chests had been ransacked. While Thommen secured another quiver of crossbow bolts to his weapon harness, Alistair spotted and snagged a heavy silver bracelet inscribed with dwarven runes which had been kicked beneath one of the bunks. Clearly seeking to escape the horrible odor, Kaslyn had not waited for the men and they soon followed her past the door in the northern wall and into a chamber where supplies were apparently sorted. Tables bearing various foodstuffs, including loaves of bread, hams, apples, peaches, and other comestibles, were scattered against the walls along with several barrels of cheap ale. Two, large handcarts had been stored against the left wall but one teetered dangerously on the brink of falling into an enormous hole in the floor - ample evidence of where the darkspawn had invaded the tower. They all paused to warily peer down into the gaping depths but there was nothing to see except murky shadows. Kaslyn checked outside the right-hand door and confirmed it opened into the hall where the genlocks still smoldered. Skirting the hole, they moved towards the next closed door opposite the first.

Alistair advised them to be ready so they were unsurprised to find more darkspawn. One genlock rushed them while two more fired arrows at the quartet from the far side of the room. Kaslyn, evading the charging monster to head for the two archers, quickly spun clear of the threshold. Knocking aside an inbound arrow with her dagger, she realized a fourth genlock stood on her right, halfway up a brief stairway leading southeast to another door. Ignoring the lone archer that continued to aim for the cluster in the doorway, Kaslyn scampered nimbly across the chamber to stun one of the others on the back wall. She was about to disable the monster on her right with a kick when it was abruptly paralyzed. Leaving the mage a clear line of sight, she stepped further to the left and sank her dar'misus into her swaying foe. From the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair finish off the genlock at the door and hurry inside the room. Before she could warn him, the archer on the stairs launched an arrow at the warrior who automatically blocked it with his shield. The monster had the big Warden's undivided attention now and he moved towards it purposefully. Kaslyn killed the genlock she had targeted and, uncertain if the lightning had quite finished off the immobilized creature next to her, she made sure with a dagger stroke to its neck. When the paralysis spell wore off, the dead monster fell across the one already sprawled on the floor. She no sooner cleared the bodies to go to the aid of the others when one of Thommen's well-placed crossbow quarrels dropped the last genlock. After cleaning their weapons, the quartet took stock of the room which had suffered the gruesome attentions of the darkspawn. There was a rack with flayed torsos in the northwest corner and a stand of pikes, tied together and draped with black streamers, had been erected in the middle of the chamber.

"Where did they get black ribbon?" Calvin inquired curiously while he peered closely at the long strips fluttering from the spearheads.

Kaslyn glanced at Alistair, who shrugged unknowingly, before she quietly answered, "That's …not ribbon, exactly. That's entrails."

"What do you…?" Thommen's voice faded as he and Alistair paled. Calvin turned faintly green and swallowed audibly as he promptly moved away from the ghastly marker. Quite willing to continue the mission, they hurried up the short stairway to cautiously open the door on a flight of dark steps leading upwards. Alistair did not sense any immediate threats and they began climbing the stairs.

Tall, thin windows provided meager illumination for the humans as the foursome went up the long, curving stairway which followed the round, outer wall. Soaring ceilings made for a lengthy hike and when they came within sight of the closed door to the second floor they paused to catch their breath. Leaning against the same wall and a few steps below her, Alistair frowned crossly at Kaslyn and finally shared something that had been lurking in the back of his mind, "Maker's breath! What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"

The Dalish didn't know any more than he did but she drolly offered, "You could try telling them they're in the wrong place."

"Right," the big warrior wryly agreed, "Because clearly this is all just a misunderstanding. We'll laugh about this later."

She snorted and squinted at him mischievously, "Weren't you complaining that you wouldn't get to fight?"

Alistair's apprehensions loosened their hold on him enough for a chuckle to escape, "Hey, you're right. I guess there is a silver lining here, if you think about it." His features grew serious, "At any rate, we need to hurry! We need to get up to the top of the tower and light the signal fire in time! Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for the signal!"

The stairwell let them out facing southeast into a large, semicircular room with wooden scaffolding erected against the near walls. Several barrels lined up in a row along the wall to the right led Kaslyn to guess this floor had been used for extra storage for the troops stationed in the tower. The darkspawn had clearly been at work here as elsewhere as the mutilated corpses and the random, disfigured statuary testified. The Dalish was beginning to wonder if the dwarves or Tevinters who designed this tower had been drunk or maybe a little mad. The layout of this place made no real sense to her. Straight across the room from the stairs was a short, wide hall separating two, facing doors. Past the closed doors, the passage appeared to open into another shadowy chamber and the far wall of the tower. Crossing the intervening space, Kaslyn chose to investigate the door on the left and the quartet quickly dispatched two genlocks and took their coppers. At the back of this small, constricted workroom there was a door on the right that opened into the dimly-lit area glimpsed beyond the end of the brief passage. Given the overall shape of the building, this long, narrow corridor necessarily curved, and the group cautiously followed it back towards the other side of the tower and the second closed door. Coming around the gradual bend, they were surprised to find two pairs of loaded ballistae hidden in the shadows and pointed at each other across the expanse that divided the doors to the cramped workrooms. Before anyone could do more than exchange puzzled expressions, there was a howling din from the other end of the gloomy chamber and more darkspawn appeared.

Three hurlocks charged at them while a mob of genlocks stopped well behind the other two siege machines and brought up their rudimentary shortbows. Raising his sword and shield, Alistair started to stride forward but halted when Kaslyn unexpectedly said, "Wait!" He glanced over at her in surprise and was even more startled to see a look of sly anticipation on her face. Disconcerted by the elf's strange command, the men anxiously held their ground. Matters worsened when the door to the other small workroom crashed opened and two more hurlocks joined those that were already rushing in their direction.

The darkspawn were nearly on them when the hunter's right hand suddenly shot out and yanked the lever on the nearby ballista. The huge bolt fired, smashing through three hurlock chests, and drove the creatures back to pin their corpses to the far wall. Kaslyn laughed, "Ha-hah! Yes!" She vaulted the ballista, whipped out her daggers, and raced towards the remaining monsters.

Alistair shook his head and waded into the fray with the two hurlocks. It wasn't until he engaged the first one that he realized the Dalish wasn't aiming for their nearest foes but had chosen to go after the archers. Alarmed at the thought of her facing so many darkspawn alone, he called for her to wait but his concentration was rapidly overtaken by the vicious brute already on him. Blocking the hurlock's sword with his shield, Alistair managed to cut apart his first opponent's armor with two swings then thrust his blade through its chest. He spun for the second hurlock and found that Thommen had cleverly pinned it in place with a bolt to its leg, allowing Calvin to incinerate it with a torrent of magical fire. Deciding that if either darkspawn somehow survived, it would be weak enough for the other men to finish, Alistair hastened to the aid of the Dalish. One genlock was dead and she danced with two more while a cloud of green vapors partially obscured the farther three archers. As soon as he took the attention of the two closest monsters, Kaslyn leaped towards the trio of staggering, choking darkspawn and slashed her dual daggers forward. All three genlocks dropped simultaneously and she immediately returned to sink her blades into the monsters facing the big Warden.

The last creature fell dead and Kaslyn, eyes and face alight, looked up at Alistair to announce excitedly, "That was the biggest bow I ever fired!" She pointed back towards the other genlock archers and twitched her hands in simple demonstration. "And did you see? I got all three of them with an acid flask and just one sweep!"

Alistair blinked at the Dalish before a grin crept over his face. He had no idea what to make of her. Anyone else he knew would be grimly appalled by the dire circumstances and the number of darkspawn still likely remaining between them and the beacon. A quick glance at the others told him they were entertaining the same amused confusion. "Where did you learn to fire a ballista?" Alistair inquired, tilting his head back at the siege machines, before he knelt to wipe off his sword.

Giving him a perplexed look, Kaslyn shrugged easily while swiftly cleaning her daggers, "Outside. I didn't know how they worked until we crossed the bridge to get here."

While the bemused men checked over the carcasses and nearby crates, the Dalish slipped off to investigate the second, cramped workroom and came back with an injury kit and a health potion. Alistair surveyed the ballistae and asked the obvious, "How did these things wind up in here?"

Thommen smirked and responded, "As I heard it, one of the banns had the idea to set them up at the top of the tower to aim towards the darkspawn. Teyrn Loghain learned of the plan and pointed out that no siege engine had that kind of range. So this was as far as they got."

Calvin looked dubious but Kaslyn could see the teyrn's point and explained, "If by some miracle the bolt actually got to the battlefield, there wouldn't really be any force behind it. I could throw a rock from here and hit about as hard."

The mage grinned and replied, "I daresay your rock would hit with far deadlier accuracy, my lady."

Kaslyn eyed the Circle mage uncertainly, glanced at Alistair and back, then smiled shyly.

Thommen appeared thoughtful before he remarked, "Don't know how they came to be loaded…."

"Somebody probably thought to use them against the darkspawn when they overran the tower, but …," Alistair murmured. "Let's get going."

The quartet passed another of the darkspawn crescent markers on their way to the other end of the curved room where they found another door that opened to the northwest. Beyond this entry they discovered five more genlocks and made quick work of them. This place had apparently once been used as a workshop to repair armor, and several tattered leather and chainmail pieces were strewn in the floor and on the long table here. The soldiers' remains they also found would no longer require such things, though they scavenged a pair of rough leather gloves that were in useful condition.

"Why are the darkspawn spread room to room?" Thommen wondered aloud as they explored the place. "I mean, why didn't this group join the others? Surely they heard the fighting?"

"Spread out, they can do more damage that way," Kaslyn murmured offhandedly.

Alistair smirked at her glib explanation before remarking, "That's probably at least partially true. They may also have decided the tower was theirs and if anyone showed up…, well, there were plenty between here and the front door to deal with unexpected reinforcements."

When they were set, the group ascended the short stairway on the northeastern wall and opened the door on the next long, gloomy flight of steps winding upwards to the third floor. The climb was made without incident and when they reached the next door, Alistair muttered, "Loghain better be ready to charge as soon as we light the signal. The king is depending on us!"

The stairwell let them out facing northeast into another round chamber which was dominated by two pairs of short, broad, wall-like structures, each decoratively carved with three interlocking arches, and bracketed by a total of six statues of anonymous, robed figures. It was all designed to draw attention through the center of the space where a single lamppost was still burning; the flickering flame casting eerie, leaping shadows over the dismembered corpses sprawled amidst the original stone décor. Kaslyn paused momentarily by a pile of bones and scooped up a small sack that clinked softly with the sound of coin. Opposite the stairs they had exited, there was an open archway and they cautiously approached. Another torch burned on the back wall of the next dark room and by that dim light they caught hints of figures scurrying and heard the rasping growls of darkspawn.

Alistair was a little disturbed to realize he had lost sight of the Dalish somewhere in the shadows when they passed the lamppost but he was quickly distracted by two, cunning genlocks that ambushed him immediately inside the next chamber. Blocking the swiping daggers on his left with his shield, the big warrior simultaneously parried the mace on his right with his longsword which blazed again thanks to Calvin's magic. Suddenly the mace-wielding monster threw its head back with a squall as Kaslyn, stabbing the genlock in the back, abruptly reappeared. Together, the Wardens smoothly dispatched the two creatures closest to the entryway. Four more genlocks remained in the back of the room to shoot arrows at the intruders, but the darkspawn's craftiness worked against them this time. One of their own nightmarish constructs blocked their fire. Tall poles, crossed at the top with more grisly, black 'ribbons' and planted in corpses piled amidst sprouting sections of jagged crescents, had been erected in the center of this shadowed room. Calvin and Thommen had difficulty aiming around or through the structure, but so did the genlocks. While the stocky creatures altered their tactics, the mage risked darkspawn arrows to paralyze the monster in the far left corner of the room as the skilled guard pinned another one on the distant right with a crossbow bolt to the leg. Once more working in pairs, the ex-Templar and the mage, and the Dalish and the crossbowman, directed their efforts at the two unfettered genlocks. By the time the snared creatures came free, the quartet was able to deal with them, and eventually all the darkspawn were eliminated. After securing anything useful, the group approached the door on the southeastern wall.

Warning them about the vague disposition of more darkspawn, Alistair readied his sword and shield again. Watching him, Kaslyn frowned thoughtfully before reaching for her dar'misus. Flinging the door open, she ducked and rolled into the room just as Alistair blocked an arrow with his shield. Due south across the broad space, three genlocks turned on them. One was slightly larger and more heavily armored than the others but instead of a magical staff, it raised a nasty-looking longbow to cover the other pair of burly darkspawn that charged towards the entryway.

Kaslyn came up on her toes and caught a glimpse of five, long cages along the left wall and two more on the immediate right of the threshold. From the smell and the sounds of the frantic barking and snarling, it appeared at least some of the captive dogs were still alive. She stunned the first genlock that neared the door and Alistair appeared beside her in time to use his shield to knock the second one away from them.

"That lever over there!" he yelled, jerking his head towards the left wall, "It will release the hounds!"

Kaslyn spotted the device near the cages not far from the darkspawn alpha and started for it at the same time the monster suddenly stiffened inside Calvin's spell. Two genlock archers on the western side of the room, evidently understanding the Wardens' intent, aimed their arrows at the Dalish in an effort to prevent her from reaching the switch. Making herself an impossible target, Kaslyn somersaulted halfway across the large room and arrived at her destination unscathed. A substantial column built in the middle of this chamber provided temporary cover from the darkspawn shafts and allowed her a few moments to examine the mechanism. Finally deciding it looked similar to the braking levers on Dalish aravels and hoping it worked as easily, she yanked the short handlebar all the way back along the half-moon track. Seven gates lifted and the three surviving mabari surged from their narrow enclosures when Kaslyn was struck on the right shoulder by an arrow. A quick rotation of the joint proved the barb had not seriously penetrated her armor and the hunter moved to position the quivering alpha between herself and the archers.

Concentrating on the paralyzed darkspawn that was beginning to wrench free of the spell, Kaslyn discovered this genlock was like the hurlock alphas - slightly larger, better equipped, and more resistant to her blades than the others of its kind. Before she could deliver a killing blow, it turned on her. Kaslyn was ready when it did and flicked her fingers into its face to addle it anew. She was about to thrust her blades into its neck when a large, russet hound suddenly lunged past her, right for the darkspawn's throat, and knocked it to the floor. There was a sharp crunching noise as the mabari's powerful jaws tore through the alpha's flesh and bone, and Kaslyn blinked with surprise at the abrupt kill. She had seen wolves take down prey before but only from a distance. Maybe Ash Warrior Aerik was right about dogs in combat, she thought before she refocused her befuddled attention on the remaining darkspawn.

With the mage's support, the warriors swiftly slew the two genlocks crowding the door, and then headed towards the pair of archers on the right side of the room. Alistair, moving for his next foe, spared an anxious glance for the Dalish. As he had hoped, the remaining mabari had readily come to their aid. While one of the war-hounds flanked Kaslyn, the other two dogs bounded across the room to viciously attack the darkspawn archers. Glad for the help, Alistair pummeled the nearest monster with his shield, then hacked part of its ragged armor away and ran it through with his sword.

Seeing that Thommen had drawn his mace to assist Alistair, Kaslyn planted her daggers in the fallen alpha's body and reached for her own bow to fire arrows at the genlock the dogs began to savage. The last two darkspawn hit the stone floor within moments of each other. Relief that they were again victorious was tinged by sadness when she saw that three other mabari were dead in their pens. Kaslyn put away her longbow, yanked the arrow from her shoulder leathers and tossed it away, then knelt to wipe her blades on the genlock's tattered rags. She was tying the darkspawn's awkward longbow underneath her pack when she was startled to find herself bumped and sniffed by a trio of cold, canine noses.

"Ma serannas, falon'en!" Kaslyn told the hounds cheerfully, uncertain of how else to respond to her doggie audience. Deciding they really did seem like halla, and with no idea how else to treat them, she explained, "We've cleared the tower on our way up here. I don't know if any of your … partners live, but you could probably go find them." She paused then added, "I don't know what to tell you if they didn't survive, other than ir'abelas…. I mean, um…, I'm sorry." She winced self-consciously at her awkwardness then glanced hesitantly at a distracted Alistair before she stood and offered, "You're free to come with us if you like." All at once the big dogs jostled her and each other as they pressed against her hips and nudged their great heads under her hands. She tentatively scratched at their ears and then chuckled quietly when they responded with silly, canine grins and stubby tails frantically wagging.

Alistair found himself grinning at the unexpected sound of her laughter and looked up from searching the dead genlocks to see what had caused it. "If your new friends can spare you," he drawled playfully, "We still have a beacon to light at the top of the tower."

Still amused, Kaslyn gently pushed through the affable mabari and headed towards the open hallway that curved southwestward. Three doors were spaced evenly along the left-hand wall and she paused at the first one to quietly warn the hounds to stay out of her way since she was unused to working with them. They huffed but obeyed and Kaslyn checked over her shoulder with Alistair who nodded and flexed his fingers around the hilt of his drawn sword. Freeing her daggers, Kaslyn turned and kicked the first door inward.

Surprised, two hurlocks and a genlock reacted quickly but their charge came to an immediate halt when a cloud of acrid, green fumes suddenly enveloped them. More howling echoed through the narrow hallway as the other two doors were abruptly thrown open and more darkspawn poured into the hall. Kaslyn, immune to the vapors from the acid chewing away at the flailing monsters, rushed forward and promptly dispatched the two choking hurlocks with her blazing dar'misus. The remaining genlock scurried to the far side of the room to fire a shortbow at them and Thommen started after it with his flaming mace.

"No!" Kaslyn told him, "Help Alistair!"

The guard shot her a startled look but he hastily returned to the chaotic hall to bash his small shield into the hurlock struggling with the big Warden. Instead of going after the lone archer herself, Kaslyn hot-footed it back into the crowded corridor, slammed the door shut, and left the genlock all alone in the room. Temporarily clutching both dar'misus with one hand, she yanked out her hunting knife, jammed it into the wooden frame, and effectively nailed the door shut.

"Will that work?" Calvin asked between spells. One genlock weakly stumbled back past a second hurlock that stood paralyzed halfway down the hall but the rest of their besieged associates were tangled too closely for him to risk casting fire or lightning.

"We'll see!" Kaslyn answered sheepishly. She ducked swiftly as a genlock plunged past the line of snarling, snapping war-hounds and swept a mace at her head. She retaliated by ramming one of her feet into its gut and shoving it back into the other two genlocks. Without warning, her daggers clanged to the floor as she clapped both her hands to her sensitive ears.

While two hounds harried the genlocks away from the rogue and the mage, the black mabari unexpectedly threw his muzzle skyward with a piercing howl. Everyone and everything in the hallway came to a momentary halt at the stunning note. Fortunately, the darkspawn were dazed for far longer than the humans or the Dalish and that diversion gave the foursome the edge over their brutal opponents.

The immobilized hurlock broke loose right after the first one dropped and both Alistair and Thommen shook off their shock to move directly for the monster. Snatching up her daggers, Kaslyn quickly opened the throat of the nearest, confused genlock before turning her attention to the next one. Calvin added his efforts and the lethal combination of magic and Dalish daggers eliminated the second monster while the dogs pinned the third genlock to the floor and mauled it. Leaving the now-enraged hurlock to the mage's spells and the rest of the warriors, Kaslyn and the white mabari dashed down the corridor.

The last genlock had retreated behind an open door at the far end of the hall to shoot arrows back into the scuffle. Faster even than the Dalish, the hound launched herself at the door, rebounding it off the darkspawn and knocking the creature off-balance. Nimbly dodging the door, the mabari began springing and snapping at the disoriented monster's face, keeping it distracted, while Kaslyn slipped behind the genlock unnoticed. By the time the hunter and the hound returned to the others, all the darkspawn in the hall were dead. The Dalish wrenched her knife free from the doorframe and the remaining genlock, standing baffled just inside the room, soon joined the rest.

All three chambers were searched for any lingering darkspawn but they had all died in the corridor of what was evidently the main barracks. Amidst dozens more bunk beds were bookshelves, weapon racks, work tables, and chests containing personal items, health poultices, potions, and injury kits. Unlike the rest of the tower, Kaslyn privately noted, these rooms were remarkably clean and tidy. There were no bodies, no blood, nor any other indication the darkspawn had been here beyond their persistent stink. Stepping back into the hall, she contemplated the huge column in the 'hound room' and noted the flayed remains piled there. She hadn't checked to be sure but wondered if the many corpses they had seen accounted for all those stationed here. The myriad gruesome parts certainly made it difficult to tell but she had a suspicion there might be more bodies than those assigned to the tower. They had no time for such investigations, however, and she shrugged off the notion.

After making certain the passage was completely clear of enemies, the group found themselves at the end of the curving hall. Alistair reported that the next darkspawn presence was not immediate so Kaslyn silently opened the door there and blinked at the unusually strong aroma that smacked her in the face. Stairs ascending directly into the southwest corner began just inside the doorway and partially obscured the rest of the room, so she cautiously crept further inside the chamber. Beyond the risers were three darkspawn clustered in the western corner. Before they could spot her, the Dalish pulled another flask from her pouch and tossed it into their midst. The monsters snarled and choked, reeling as the acid fog ate into their withered flesh and lungs. While the burly genlocks pulled shortbows from their backs, the huge hurlock charged towards the entryway but was abruptly halted when Kaslyn stepped forward and poked her fingers at its streaming eyes. Leaving it to stagger and shake its head, she spun past it to administer a hard kick to the next genlock's vitals. Turning to the second genlock, she saw it was fixed in place by Calvin's magic. She wheeled around to shove her blades into all the weak spots of the hurlock's crude armor but her finesse was rendered unnecessary by Alistair knocking it to the floor with his shield and running his longsword through it. She looked for the wheezing genlock but Thommen had rushed past her to liberally apply his mace to its head while the paralyzed monster was magically electrocuted by the mage. As the dogs watched and the Dalish turned in pointless circles, the latest darkspawn trio was handily slain.

While the warriors cleaned their weapons, Kaslyn hastily stripped the bodies of anything useful. Thommen appropriated another quiver-full of crossbow bolts from a nearby weapon rack then joined the other men who hurried up the stairs through the next doorway. The mabari appeared hesitant at this point and the lingering hunter quietly encouraged them to make their escape while they could.

"Ma serannas, falon'en" Kaslyn told the hounds again.

Cocking their heads, they whined at her with troubled expressions on their faces.

"Ab - Sorry," she smiled, "That means 'my thanks, friends'."

The canines huffed and twitched their tails and she scratched at their broad heads again. After a few parting licks at her fingers, the dogs looked at each other and trotted back the way they had come. Sighing absently, the Dalish leaped for the steps then through the door. She was thoughtful when she caught up with the Warden. There really didn't seem to be enough darkspawn in that last room to account for the pungent odor, and if the mabari had been halla, she would have sworn they were uneasy about something, but she didn't know enough about dogs to be sure. Halfway up the winding stairway, an unsettled Kaslyn finally wrinkled her nose and softly asked Alistair, "What is that …_stink_?"

"What does it smell like?" he inquired distractedly.

"I'm not sure," Kaslyn replied, "It's darkspawn but … different… mustier, stronger. A _lot_ stronger."

Anxious mind increasingly focused on getting to the beacon, Alistair absently shrugged off the Dalish's question and kept going, "Probably more darkspawn then. Let's just keep moving." More to himself than anyone else, he muttered, "Surely, we must be nearly there." He had lost track of time as they fought their way up the tower but had gained a healthy knot of fearful tension in his gut about relaying the crucial signal. An assignment that had initially seemed sheltered and superfluous might now be the only thing to save the lives of Duncan, his brother Wardens, the king, and everyone else outside on the battlefield. They rounded the bend and his growing anxiety was significantly relieved when he saw the stairs finally opening out overhead into what appeared to be a large, vaulted chamber.

The quartet raced up the steps and into the pinnacle of the tower but abruptly skidded to a halt on a floor unexpectedly slick with blood. Alistair flung a hand out to stop his impulsive sister Warden and to warn the others as they swiftly surveyed the area with growing horror. Partially-gnawed bones littered the edges of the chamber along with various weapons and armor marked as having been worn by the teyrn's men. An enormous lamp that once stood in the center of the cavernous space had been knocked onto its side and coals had spilled into the floor from the basin. Flames still burned, however, eerily illuminating the ghastly scene and the figure crouched on the far side of the room.

Grisly, stomach-churning noises were easily heard over the driving gale as the hunched, grey-skinned creature devoured whatever morsel was in its fist. Bloody drool trailed from its fanged mouth when it looked over its shoulder at them before it turned, rose from its stoop, and tossed aside the human limb it had been worrying. Towering nearly twice the height of any of the men, the darkspawn's heavy, muscular frame was covered by makeshift bracers, a dented pauldron strapped to one shoulder, and a frayed loincloth secured by a ragged leather band; all clearly scavenged and roughly constructed from armor meant for smaller beings. A dirty, pale, human skull adorned one side of its wide belt. Beneath a pair of thick, jagged, dark-grey horns that curled up and back from the top of its hairless head, small, beady eyes peered at them from over its tiny nose and the mottled forearm it used to wipe away the gory spittle.

"Ten feet tall with horns as long as your arm," a wide-eyed Kaslyn breathed almost inaudibly from Alistair's side, "Oh, Mythal, have mercy."

Instantly they all reached for their weapons but the giant was faster. It scarcely straightened to its full height before it bent to gouge up a section of cobbled floor and threw it at them. Alistair and Kaslyn dodged one direction while Thommen pushed Calvin the other way, and the mass of stone shattered in the empty place where they had been standing.

Recovering quickly, Alistair seized his sword and shield and charged the bellowing creature, taunting it to gain its notice. For a split-second, Kaslyn marveled at the Warden and thought that must be the bravest act she had ever seen. Urging the others to keep their distance, she grabbed her daggers from her back and rushed forward to join him. As resistant as other darkspawn had proven to her arrows, she was reasonably convinced this thing was twice as impervious and despite its massive size, it was moving much too rapidly for her to take reliable aim at its eyes, mouth, or pointed ears. Without warning, the giant monster halted in place as rings of magical force spiraled up around it.

"I did it!" the mage exulted.

"Well done, Calvin!" Kaslyn cheered.

No one wasted the opportunity. Alistair started slicing into the midsection of the brute with his sword while Thommen fired his scrounged crossbow bolts at its neck and chest and Calvin followed up paralysis with lightning. Kaslyn sidestepped behind the behemoth's shins to sweep her daggers across the backs of its knees and legs, hoping to at least slow or cripple the monster once the magic waned. The hide was every bit as thick as she expected, and the muscle and tendons underneath were heavy and tough as well. They did not cut so easily and she wondered with some exasperation if she was going to have to start sawing. With a deafening roar, the creature abruptly broke loose of the binding spell. Despite the immediate threat of the warrior Warden, the monster fixed its hot glare on the mage across the room.

Alistair grunted and stumbled backwards several steps, nearly losing his footing completely amidst loose bones and rubble, when the back of the darkspawn's broad, stained claw unexpectedly connected with his breastplate and swatted him away. Calvin had obviously weakened the monster at some point, the warrior realized, or else he would have been belted across the room. He looked up to see the brute grab another hunk of flooring and hurl it at the offending wizard. Calvin wasn't quite fast enough that time. Managing to elude the main chunk, the violent shockwave still knocked the mage off his feet even as he suffered several lacerations and bruises from the flying shards.

The giant started to close on the stunned mage with long, pounding strides when suddenly a rock crashed into its temple just above its left eye. Snarling, it turned towards the source of the wayward projectile. Another stone thwacked its forehead, rocking its head back slightly, and causing its tiny eyes to squint. Trying to regain his balance and catch his breath, Alistair watched with horrified dismay as the Dalish snatched a third stone from the floor and threw it at the monster. The rock bounced off its thick forehead again and it bellowed at her.

"Yeah, yeah," she jeered derisively, "Come and get me!" The Dalish waved her arms, drawing the creature's wavering attention to herself. Instead of leading it back to the Warden, she started springing backwards from one foot to the other, teasing it towards the far west wall, and away from everyone else. The creature watched her for a second before it crouched with one hand on the floor, lowered its head, and charged after her across the wide-open room.

The top of the tower was constructed as a huge dome with tall, broad arches supporting the roof high overhead. Wide, thick pillars formed the sides of these pointed openings and it was towards this structure that Kaslyn fled with the horns of the horrible darkspawn right behind her. Having seen the Dalish in action many times by now, Alistair was abruptly afraid she had been injured at some point but had said nothing about it; he could have sworn she was much faster. It occurred to him then that she was baiting the terrible monster and his gaze ranged ahead, trying to anticipate where she was leading the behemoth. He doubted it would simply run out of a tower window on its own; darkspawn were unfortunately somewhat smarter than that. Panicked alarm shot through his considerations at the sudden realization that the nightmare was closing on her. He shouted a warning but Kaslyn did not slow down as she neared the edge of the room.

Alistair had underestimated the Dalish.

With a fresh burst of speed Kaslyn sprinted up the broad support column between two windows and at the apex of her momentum, leaped and twisted to vault over the darkspawn which slammed its horned head into the stone blocks. She alighted with airy grace right behind the beast and instantly whipped her two curved daggers through the flesh at the back of its knees. The monster howled in pain but the force of its charge had lodged its spiky horns deep in the ancient masonry and for the time being it was stuck. Overcoming his astonishment, Alistair wasted no more time and ran to pick up where he had left off while Thommen's crossbow quarrels and Calvin's arcane bolts streaked over their heads.

Eventually Calvin's lightning flashed again, inflicting significant burns on the darkspawn, and causing it to twitch and shudder enough to work its horns loose from the stone's grip. Twisting its head slightly, it kicked out with one huge foot and caught the unsuspecting Dalish. With a gasp of sharply-expelled air, she went flying backwards into the room. Alistair could only hope she was not hurt too badly and pummeled the beast in the midsection with the edge of his shield. Dark red ichor flowed from at least a dozen serious wounds on it. Crossbow shafts lodged deep in its shoulder and hip joints, coupled with the Dalish's work on its legs, significantly hindered the creature's movements, while magic had seared it in numerous places and his own longsword had nearly hacked open its vitals, but there seemed to be no end to the monster's awful vigor.

Wrenching its horns completely free, the darkspawn swung to face the warrior and suddenly launched itself straight up into the air. Alistair immediately jumped back. He was knocked even further away and off his feet by the tremor caused when the brute came down smashing its knuckles into the spot precisely where he had been standing. Looking up at a ten-foot tall monster from the flat of his back was less-than-inspiring to his confidence and Alistair struggled to scoot away from the menacing giant looming over him. Snarling, the darkspawn raised both clenched fists over its head to crush the Warden at its feet.

With a flying leap onto the creature's exposed chest, Kaslyn plunged her flaming blades into its heart and the hollow of its throat. Choking out a yowl, it toppled over backwards. The Dalish rode it down, driving her knives deeper, twisting them back and forth, and inflicting as much damage as possible, until the monster crashed to the floor on its back. Feebly raising its right hand, it attempted one final grab for the lithe hunter but Kaslyn yanked one dagger loose and planted it in the brute's left eye. The clawed hand fell and the huge frame convulsed once then twice before slumping lifelessly. She wrenched the blade around in its brain several times before she jerked both curved daggers free and warily sprang backwards off of the monstrous carcass. Panting for air and stumbling back, she abruptly folded hard to the floor.

Alistair scrambled to his feet and after a momentary scrutiny to make sure the darkspawn was not about to get back up, he swiveled around to search for the beacon. Through the huge windows he could see the battle raging far below them. There certainly appeared to be enough chaos to warrant a flanking action, he thought.

"The beacon is over here," Thommen called.

"We've surely missed the signal. Let's light this quickly before it's too late!" Alistair responded. Shouldering his shield and sliding his sword through his belt, he grabbed flint and steel from a pouch at his side and strode rapidly for the recess. He could smell the oil that soaked the fresh firewood arranged in the hearth and hastily suited action to words when he managed to strike a spark. Flames raced up the flue to ignite the logs stacked in the huge basin in the roof, constructed for just that purpose, and there was an explosive boom as the signal overhead suddenly roared into life.

Relieved that the mission was finally accomplished, Alistair rose from his crouch and turned to check on his companions. Thommen was helping Calvin to a seat on a relatively clean spot of the floor near the hearth, but Kaslyn had remained where she was with her head bowed and leaning on her left arm. She looked up, still breathing hard, and he saw she was pale with blood smudged across her chin from one corner of her mouth. Alistair approached and knelt on one knee next to her, "How are you?"

Kaslyn hesitated then gasped, "Feels like … something's stuck… here." She indicated a spot on her lower left ribs before fumbling at a pouch on her belt. "… I'll be … okay. Check … others."

Suspecting she might have at least one cracked or broken rib, Alistair ignored her request and reached into another of his bags. He pulled out the jar of healing paste and dabbed some on his fingers before reaching out, intending to carefully smear the purple footprint he could fancy was already forming. Her right hand shot out, grabbed his wrist tightly, and held him at bay at first, but after a few seconds she slowly released him. Tensing at his initial touch, she only growled hoarsely when his fingers moved gently over the spot she had indicated being 'stuck'. With the external injury treated, he pulled out a health potion, cracked the seal on the vial, and offered it to her. She scowled at him but he smiled encouragingly and waited. Straightening with a wince, she took as deep a breath as she could manage before taking the potion, tossing the reddish liquid down her throat, and handing the small vial back to him. He tucked it away then watched as she coughed twice and color again blossomed in her pale cheeks. She took a shuddering breath, then a deeper one, and finally peeked up at him with an embarrassed grin and a quiet, Dalish thanks. Wiping her chin off on the back of one hand, she glanced at the others anxiously. Alistair looked over inquiringly at the guard and the mage. Thommen was applying medicine and poultices to some of Calvin's wounds but both assured the Wardens they were otherwise fine.

Kaslyn worried the inner corner of her lip and her eyes lingered briefly on the other two men before they flickered back to Alistair. He barely heard her voice when she asked, "They didn't get tainted fighting all those things on the way up here, did they?"

Alistair discreetly considered the others while wiping his fingers clean but shook his head. "I don't think so," he finally answered with similar tact. He stuffed the kerchief away and stood.

"Now, you watch," Kaslyn remarked, accepting Alistair's polite tug to her feet, "after all of that, we'll get an urgent message from Duncan telling us to run back down all those stairs."

"Wait until I tell him and our brother Wardens that you killed an ogre!" Alistair replied with a broad grin.

Kaslyn shook her head and humbly corrected, "_We_ killed it." She paused before quietly asking, "Were we in time? I think it's only been about an hour…."

He nodded and replied, "I think so. The darkspawn certainly looked well-committed to me."

Alistair and Kaslyn carefully wiped their blades clean on the rags the monster wore and after all the weapons and bandages were put away, the quartet explored the rest of room. The beacon-hearth was at the southernmost point of the circular chamber and the lamp and the ogre lay slightly to the northwest of that. Amongst the discarded debris, Thommen scrounged a heavy chainmail shirt and Alistair hefted a very nice wooden shield. A terrible blow had scarred the face of the plain shield long ago but it still appeared quite sturdy and strong and had an air of reliability to it. It definitely had fewer grooves and gouges than his current, battered Templar-issue. From the two barrels stored up here, the Dalish fished out an intricate necklace of sun-bleached teeth and bones then held up a couple of odd stones she had also found. The first was a hand-length oblong that looked pale only because hoarfrost actually covered the surface. Where Kaslyn had excitedly rubbed away some of the rime with her thumb, rich blue hues were visible underneath the frost. Fascinated, the mage examined it then suggested the icy-cold mineral might actually be a large, flawless, ice crystal. The small, black stone, carved with a strange glyph behind which blue-white light seemed to flicker and flash, Calvin helpfully identified as a lightning rune of a journeyman's skill level. That classification meant nothing to Kaslyn but she still thought both stones quite intriguing.

Thunder grumbled around their aerie and after packing away their treasures, the group went to the large, pointed arches facing southwest towards the battlefield. The gusting winds and fresh air against their faces was a distinct relief after the oppressive darkspawn reek in the rest of the tower. Despite the darkness of the blustering gale, the main battle was still illuminated by the torches carried by the immense darkspawn horde and the blazing bonfires of the king's army, as well as the magical storms of fire and lightning that swept across vast sections of the battle.

"I hope the mages casting those are being careful of our men," Thommen commented. As they watched, a large, white cloud swirled into being and became a ferocious blizzard over a large swath of the battleground. Dozens of figures were arrested in the freezing clutches of snow and ice, only to be quickly smashed and lost in the ebb and flow between the two opposing forces.

"They're the best," Calvin assured him stoutly, "I hope to be that good myself someday."

Alistair and Kaslyn exchanged a silent glance, both evidently sharing the same thought. The Circle mages were not the only sorcerers present out there but neither mentioned anything to the others. They continued to watch the skirmish below but eventually Kaslyn frowned. Before she could comment, Calvin asked the question going through her mind.

"Shouldn't the flanking charge be visible by now?"

Both warriors shrugged simultaneously and Alistair suggested, "It's probably started and we just can't see it from here. Besides," he added, "We don't exactly know anything about Loghain's position…."

It certainly sounded like a reasonable explanation but Kaslyn's doubts lingered. She might not be knowledgeable about pitched battle but Duncan had said they would overlook the entire valley from here and she had the distinct feeling Teyrn Loghain's response should not take this long. After briefly witnessing the battle, both Wardens turned away from the window and started towards the corpse lying near the upended lamp.

"What did you call this thing again, Alistair?" Kaslyn softly inquired, gesturing to the dead behemoth.

"It's an ogre," He explained, "They're among the largest known darkspawn and traditionally only seen during a Blight, although there are some Warden reports of them being encountered in the dwarven Deep Roads hunting alone or in small groups. Be careful with them," He warned, "From what I've read, we just saw most of what these monsters can do but they're also quite capable of snatching up smaller creatures and either beating them to death or simply crushing them in their grip. Grey Warden lore advises that, unless they've received a major injury to the head or the heart, ogres can lie dormant and fully regenerate in a matter of minutes so it's usually recommended to burn them to ashes." He frowned then rubbed at his chest, explaining, "Not that your dagger through its eye wasn't a serious blow, but I think cutting this one's head off completely should prevent it coming to life again." He started to reach for his sword then his eyes widened in horror.

There was a howling thunder from the stairwell near the center of the room and the air was abruptly clouded with darkspawn arrows as a flood of genlocks and hurlocks boiled into the chamber. Alistair had barely enough warning to fling himself to the ground behind the thick stone column of the overturned lamp but the rest of his companions had no such luck. The other two men cried out in startled terror at the invasion, but the Dalish, despite her lightning reflexes, had no time to react at all and fell to the floor with four darkspawn barbs sticking out of her left chest, right hip, and right thigh. Alistair was sure the hunter was dead until he saw her lift her head to snarl defiantly at the monsters filling the room. Intending to drag her out of sight or under cover, he scrambled over to Kaslyn but could not reach her before an armored hurlock savagely kicked her in the head. Swarmed by the monsters, Alistair's armor and training mostly protected him and he tried to shield Kaslyn's slight form with his own body but he was thwarted by the arrows sticking out of her. He knew in his heart his efforts were futile and heard the screams of Thommen and Calvin abruptly cut short. Suddenly there was another deafening roar and a reverberating crash from the windows to the east. Before Alistair could see what new catastrophe had arrived, his head was forced down by a wave of scorching heat washing through the chamber and he pulled the unconscious girl's face closer to his chest. This time it was the darkspawn he heard shrieking and the stench of their burning flesh assaulted his nose and made him want to retch. Without warning something grabbed his midsection and he nearly panicked to keep ahold of Kaslyn when he and the Dalish were each gripped by an enormous claw. Between the nauseating smoke and the tight hold at his waist, his fear of another ogre didn't last long as his breath abandoned him and darkness overwhelmed him as easily as the darkspawn had.

~O~

The golden King of Ferelden was scything through the darkspawn as easily as any of the other veteran warriors around him. Nearby, the dusky Warden-Commander was a shadowy blur with his sword and dagger glimmering in his hands. Both men were splattered with the dark red blood of many kills. Duncan kicked another hurlock below the belt then leaned in to cut its throat with his blades. Momentarily free, he caught his breath and assessed the situation around him. Cailan was using his foot to push a skewered hurlock off of his greatsword while his two, personal bodyguards valiantly defended his back not far away. Duncan was distracted by another hurlock that rushed at him but he quickly knocked the monster's blade aside with his dagger and slashed it in half with his sword. Suddenly the Warden froze with a clear sense of foreboding, and looked warily about himself. In the distance echoed an ominous roar. His black eyes went wide and he abruptly spun around to spot the huge ogre striding carelessly through the battle straight for him. Duncan lashed out at the monster with his longsword but the darkspawn swatted him aside. Tumbling to a stop on the ground several yards away, the Warden looked up in time to see King Cailan sweep his sword at the brute. The ogre evaded the mighty blow and the young man cried out, dropping his weapon, when the monstrous darkspawn snatched him up by the waist in one clawed hand. It pulled him close to bellow into his face, and the king's expression turned from fear to revulsion as he was forced to look away from the strength of its fetid breath. Without warning the ogre thrust the king away and abruptly crushed the royal torso in its grip. Cailan didn't even have time to scream. Grabbing the bloody corpse with its other hand, the monster flung the king's body away like a limp ragdoll and sent it crashing brutally into both royal guards. Duncan, propped up on his hands in an effort to get back up, bowed his head. He looked up again to see the ogre roar its victory with its head thrown back and arms spread wide. Hot rage flashed over the Warden's face. Forgetting his own injuries, he leaped to his feet with a snarl and charged towards the monster. He launched himself at the brute, burying his sword and dagger in its chest, and twisted the blades as he hung there. The ogre was howling again but for a different reason now. It tried to grab the man but he plunged his blades into its flesh again and again while he kicked and clambered his way up the massive darkspawn's chest. He continued stabbing and wrenching the blades closer and closer towards its neck until the ogre toppled backwards with a final rumbling gurgle. Duncan paused to make certain it was dead then sat back on his knees on its stomach. The pain from his wounds sharply reasserted itself and with a grunt he bent at the waist to hold his battered midsection with one arm. Leaving his blades embedded in the ogre, he rose to his feet and stumbled over to kneel where the king's body lay tangled with those of his dead guardians in a pool of blood. Cailan's blue eyes were fixed and glassy, and although the Warden checked to be absolutely sure, there was no sign of life. Duncan looked around at the fire-lit chaos surrounding him. Men and women were fighting, screaming, and dying as more and more darkspawn surged through the king's forces. He leaned leftward, searching for the top of the tower, but the bridge obstructed his view. Straining to his right, he saw the beacon blazing atop the soaring spire. Despite the horrific battle still raging all around him, relief briefly washed over his features. There was another unholy roar and the Warden's gaze dropped from the flaming pinnacle to the scene before him. Through the smoke, mist, and rain he saw yet another innumerable wave of darkspawn rushing towards him. The hurlock alpha leading this charge spotted the Warden-Commander at the same time and adjusted its grip on the battle-axe it carried. Without his weapons and badly injured, Duncan's eyes narrowed and his lip lifted in a defiant snarl as the edge of the huge axe swept towards him and was lost in a flash of fiery lightning reflecting off the blade.

~O~

Kaslyn awoke suddenly but quietly from the strangely vivid dream. Her eyes quickly focused on the wood beams overhead and she realized they were not the ones that formed her aravel. A moment of panic was followed homesick heartache then uncertainty as she remembered her recent past. Amidst the strong scent of herbs and medicines, the smell of boggy greenery told her she was back in the Wilds and her ears picked up the muffled noise of water gently lapping against a shore nearby. Other quiet sounds and vaguely recognizable scents sorted themselves out and Kaslyn realized she was lying in a comfortable bed, covered by a warm, grey blanket, and she wasn't alone wherever she was. Still feeling groggy, she sat up and immediately discovered she wore only her smallclothes and was acutely sore in places that were correspondingly bandaged. The thickest dressing was pressed to her left chest but she could feel another heavy compress resisting her right hip and another bound to her right leg. In the opposite corner across the dimly-lit room, she saw someone putting away a large book or box on a high shelf of a bookcase. Kaslyn struggled to push herself upright, causing the blanket and sheet to rustle, and the dark-haired woman turned to look at her.

"Ah, your eyes finally open," she greeted the Dalish, "Mother shall be pleased."

"I remember you," Kaslyn replied, "The woman from the Wilds … Morrigan." She scooted backwards to gingerly lean against the wall behind her and pulled the bedcovers up modestly around herself.

"Indeed," the witch acknowledged with some small pleasure as she approached the bed. "I am and we are in the Wilds where I am finished bandaging your wounds. You are welcome, by the way." Morrigan gazed at her curiously, "How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother's rescue?"

Kaslyn tensed at the woman's proximity then silently chided herself for her foolishness; if anyone had wanted her hurt or dead…. Frowning, the hunter chewed her lower lip and her eyes sightlessly roamed the covers over her drawn-up knees while she aimed her sluggish thoughts at answering the question. Her memories backtracked from the merciful dark to a cool, fresh wind flowing all around her, gentle pressure around her middle, a burnt stench, deep roaring, piercing screams cut short, something heavy, sharp pain, …. The last memory jumped to the forefront with harsh clarity and her gaze snapped up to meet the golden eyes of the witch, "What happened to the darkspawn?"

"You were injured and then Mother rescued you," Morrigan explained, "Do you not remember?" She dipped a clay cup of water from a nearby bucket and passed it to the girl who gratefully accepted it.

Kaslyn grimaced and shook her head, "I remember being overwhelmed by darkspawn…." Her mind flashed more snippets - rushing thunder from the stairwell, a fleeting glimpse of raining arrows, dull yowling, hard blows, a shadowy face looming over her, a strangely reassuring scent … the rest seemed to blur together like a reflection shattered in a pool of water until there was only darkness. Her head throbbed painfully and she winced. Remembering the cup in her hands, she cautiously sniffed then drank the cool, herb-laced water and gradually her headache waned.

"Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you both live," Morrigan told her. She hesitated and eyed Kaslyn uncertainly before she reluctantly continued, "The man who was to respond to your signal … quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle." She gently took the empty cup and continued to look at the Dalish. "Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend … he is not taking it well."

Kaslyn looked at the woman quizzically, "My 'friend'…. You mean Alistair?"

"The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes," the witch replied casually.

The Dalish unconsciously sighed with relief. Alistair had survived with her. She hadn't woken up all alone this time. Shocked by the outcome of the battle, her muddled mind managed to move on to the next important people that the witch might have identified and Kaslyn inquired, "What happened to the Grey Wardens? And the king?"

"All dead," Morrigan responded. "Your friend has veered between denial and grief since Mother told him." She paused then added, "He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke."

Stunned at the death toll, Kaslyn nodded numbly and vaguely looked about for her leathers. Duncan and the Grey Wardens, King Cailan and his army, were all dead? Aside from Alistair, she had only really known Duncan but she felt an echo of the big warrior's loss. She had voluntarily left her clan, but she at least had every reason to believe they were still alive and well somewhere. All of Alistair's people were dead - and he knew it. That was not even to mention whatever happened to the sick mabari, the kennel master, Master Mortimer, Pick…, Kaslyn's head pounded and she winced again.

The witch understood her search at once, and reached towards the chest at the end of the bed. Handing the Dalish her folded clothes, she warned, "Take care. Your wounds still require attention until Mother declares you well enough."

Kaslyn nodded reluctantly again. Not that she had a choice, her shoulder and chest were aching deeply now that she was moving, and her hip and leg definitely felt stiff and uncomfortable. Pushing aside the blanket, she noticed a motley collection of bruises covering her limbs and torso. She consequently expected to find her leathers tattered in all the places she had been injured but instead she was surprised to find that the cured hide had been neatly repaired. Holding the material to her nose, scent revealed Alistair's careful touch and she blinked with wonder. Her shoulder made it plain it was not about to cooperate very far but she managed to get dressed without too much trouble and it was good to get back into her clothes even if her bodice and leggings fit snugly over the bandages. Leaving her messy tail alone for the time being, she combed the fingers of her right hand through her shaggy forelocks to push them away from her face, then looked at the witch curiously, "Why does your mother want to see me?"

Morrigan sat down hesitantly at the foot of the bed, looking at the Dalish intently, and replied, "I do not know. She rarely tells me her plans."

Finally noticing the thinly-veiled scrutiny, the hunter guessed, "Were my injuries severe?"

"Yes," the dark-haired woman promptly answered, "but I expect you shall be fine. The darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal."

Somewhat taken aback by that answer, Kaslyn blinked then inquired, "What about Alistair? Is he all right?"

"He is … as you are," Morrigan answered without concern, adding, "I suppose it would be unkind to say he is being childish."

The Dalish frowned at the other woman and replied, "Very unkind! Those were his friends – his clan."

The witch was unperturbed, "And do you think they would encourage his blubbering? If so, they are not the sort of Grey Wardens the legends note."

"Legends are usually at least a bowshot away from reality," Kaslyn pointed out, "And if they were truly his friends then I think they would, indeed, understand his grief." She saw Morrigan's golden eyes studying her curiously. It was as if the dark-haired woman were trying to comprehend such reactions. The hunter winced once more as her head suddenly throbbed again and she decided to quit thinking quite so deeply for the time being. She sighed and rubbed her forehead with her fingers, noting there was no bandage there at least. Looking up, she murmured with sincerity, "Thank you for helping me, Morrigan."

That finally startled the witch. She started to hold up a hand in denial but dropped it, "I … You are welcome, though Mother did most of the work," she readily acknowledged, "I am no healer."

Still feeling a bit muzzy and adrift, Kaslyn finally admitted, "I have some questions, if you don't mind."

A small smile flitted across Morrigan's face and she replied, "I do not mind. Take your time."

"Are we safe here?" Kaslyn wanted to know, "Where are the darkspawn?"

"We are safe – for the moment. Mother's magic keeps the darkspawn away," she responded firmly. "Once you leave, 'tis uncertain what will happen. The horde has moved on, so you might avoid it."

"Are there any survivors besides us?" Kaslyn inquired. She had encountered only a handful of the huge army camped at Ostagar so she supposed it was a stupid question on her part. Still, the thought of all of the king's people completely wiped out save for her and Alistair – and that apparently because they had been polite to a witch of the Wilds - was unsettling.

"Only stragglers that are long gone." The witch hesitated then added, "You … would not want to see what is happening in that valley now."

Before now all the hunter had heard were vague legends and rumors. Remembering the atrocities they had witnessed in the Wilds and on their way to the top of the tower, Kaslyn was still curious how truly evil the darkspawn could be, and wondered, "Why? What's happening?"

"Are you sure you want me to describe it?" Morrigan asked calmly.

Kaslyn steeled her nerve. A Dalish hunter feared nothing, she told herself. She swallowed and replied, "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

The witch nodded once. "I had a good view of the battlefield. 'Tis a grisly scene. There are bodies everywhere and darkspawn swarm them … feeding, I think." She took a deep breath. "They also look for survivors and drag them back down beneath the ground. I cannot say why."

Kaslyn's thoughts automatically went to Tamlen's uncertain fate and she closed her eyes and bowed her head. One Dalish hunter and one human Warden would make for an insignificant attempt at a rescue - provided she could even convince Alistair to try. The two of them could not take on an entire darkspawn army by themselves. That would be infamously stupid. Her head pounded again and she squinted up at the other woman and muttered, "Sorry I asked."

"Suit yourself," Morrigan shrugged indifferently. Without comment, the witch handed her another cup of water which the hunter drank appreciatively.

While her headache subsided again, Kaslyn recalled the plan presented at the war council and wondered why the teyrn abandoned the king. Did the signal come too late? Despite her inexperience with pitched battle, she did not think they were so overdue, and even Alistair had commented that they had appeared to be in time. There was no point in asking Morrigan. She would likely have no idea who Teyrn Loghain even was, let alone why he did anything. Mulling mysterious motivations, she handed the empty cup back and inquired, "Why did your mother save us?"

"I wonder at that myself," the witch readily answered before reluctantly adding, "but she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were the only ones she could reach," she mused. "I would have rescued the king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom than you."

Kaslyn arched an eyebrow at the other woman. Coin had its uses, even occasionally in the wilderness, but who would pay…? Then again, she had no idea what a witch of the Wilds might find valuable. Her humor rose to the occasion and the Dalish wryly remarked, "Thanks a lot."

"I am only being practical," Morrigan acknowledged with another shrug.

Considering that her last coherent memory placed her and Alistair at the top of the impossibly tall tower, Kaslyn wondered, "How did your mother manage to reach us exactly?"

Obviously becoming impatient with the Dalish's curiosity, the witch testily replied, "She turned into a giant bird and plucked the two of you from atop the tower, one in each talon." Her manner relented marginally and she actually sounded almost teasing, "If you do not believe that tale, then I suggest you ask Mother yourself. She may even tell you."

Kaslyn got the hint and smiled sheepishly, "I … think I've asked enough questions."

"I agree," Morrigan readily responded, "'Tis time you speak with Mother. I will stay and make something to eat." She waited as the injured girl awkwardly got to her feet and started stiffly towards the door. Apparently satisfied the Dalish was steady enough on her own, Morrigan turned for the hearth while the hunter opened the door and limped slowly out of the hut.

Kaslyn stepped outside and paused while her eyes adjusted to the mid-afternoon sunlight. A grey haze remained in the overcast sky but it was still significantly brighter outdoors than indoors. When her vision cleared, she looked around and saw the old woman sitting in her nearby rocker sorting a basket of herbs. Alistair, wearing a casual, buff-colored shirt over the lower half of his splintmail armor, sat on a deerskin spread next to a campfire with his back to the hut. One elbow rested on his drawn up knee while he stared out over the placid lake where intermittent sunlight sparkled off the water.

"See?" the old woman remarked, glancing over at him, "Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man."

Alistair turned his head and quickly twisted to his feet. "Kaslyn!" He exclaimed with hoarse relief, "You're alive!" A shaky almost-laugh escaped him and his face wore an incredulous expression as he reached toward the injured Dalish. "I thought you were dead for sure!"

Hugging her injured shoulder, she instinctively shied away from being handled. She seemed to be getting that sentiment a lot lately, her humor reflected. Still, it felt extremely odd that anyone would be so troubled about her now – especially a human. Noting the unexpected anxiety evident in the big man's eyes and still too stiff to move much or easily, Kaslyn finally relaxed enough to allow him to help her to a seat on the hide where he had been sitting. Squeezing his hand reassuringly, she replied, "I'm fine, Alistair. I … appreciate your concern." Attempting to allay any misgivings, she offered a small, impish grin, "It takes more than a few darkspawn to kill me."

"Duncan's dead," Alistair announced abruptly. He slumped into a seat beside her with his eyes downcast. "The Grey Wardens … even the king. They're all … dead." His voice grew quiet and there was a stunned quality to his features and in his tone, "Ah …, this doesn't seem real." He looked back up at the somber Dalish, "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," the old woman admonished in a wry but gentle manner.

Alistair looked at her and stammered, "I–I didn't mean … but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty but useless," the old woman replied dismissively, "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

"_The_ Flemeth …? From the legends?" Alistair spoke softly with wide-eyed amazement, "Daveth was right – you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

"And what does that mean?" Flemeth dryly inquired. She eyed the young man and pointed out, "I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?"

Kaslyn hid a tiny smile behind her thick hair even while she bowed her head respectfully to the old woman, "Ma serannas, Asha'belannar. Andaran atish'an." She looked up to see a faintly amused expression on the elder woman's face as the witch inclined her head slightly at the Dalish. Kaslyn didn't particularly care what the woman was or called herself. A thought occurred and the hunter couldn't resist the pert observation, "If you're Asha'belannar, you must be very old and powerful."

"Must I? Age and power are relative – it depends on who is asking," Flemeth replied with a smirk, "Compared to you, yes, on both counts."

Kaslyn's grin widened merrily.

"Then why didn't you save Duncan?" Alistair asked. The pain in his voice was obvious. "He is … He was our leader!"

Kaslyn's smile vanished and Flemeth frowned regretfully at the young man, "I am sorry for your Duncan, but your grief must come later … in the shadows before you take vengeance, as my mother once said. Duty must come now."

"We can't be safe here," Kaslyn quietly commented with concern, "Where are all the darkspawn?"

"The largest part of the horde has moved on," the old woman assured, "We are safe enough for now – Old Flemeth knows a thing or two about hiding," she added sardonically. "The longer you are here, the less that is true, however. These things will notice you eventually."

"So why _did_ you save us?" Kaslyn inquired curiously.

Flemeth smirked again at the Dalish, "Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? Someone has to deal with these darkspawn." Her grey head lifted as she gazed out over the lake, "It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight." Her amber eyes came back to look sharply at both young people as she pointedly asked, "Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"Of course not," Alistair immediately protested, "But we _were_ fighting the darkspawn. The king had nearly defeated them! Why would Loghain do this?"

"Now _that_ is a good question," Flemeth nodded at him and her features became momentarily troubled, "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature." Wry amusement touched her expression again, "Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

Kaslyn tilted her head curiously at the old woman as Alistair muttered, "The Archdemon."

There was a heavy pause and Kaslyn's gaze flickered between the old woman on her far left and the Warden between them. Her eyes focused once more on Flemeth, "What is this Archdemon, exactly?"

"It is said that, long ago, the Maker sent the Old Gods of the ancient Tevinter Imperium to slumber in prisons deep beneath the surface," Flemeth explained. "An Archdemon is an Old God awakened and tainted by darkspawn. Believe that or not, history says it's a fearsome and immortal thing, and only fools ignore history."

Dalish certainly did not ignore history, Kaslyn mused, and that description was awfully close to Alistair's dire account. She looked at him, "We should contact the rest of the Grey Wardens."

"Cailan already summoned them," he answered dispiritedly, "They'll come if they can, but I expect Loghain has already taken steps to stop them." He looked up from the fire towards the Dalish, "We must assume they won't arrive in time."

Kaslyn stared out towards the wilderness, worrying at her inner cheek. She knew she was missing something but felt lucky she was able to string two, coherent thoughts together. She finally looked back at Alistair and quietly declared, "I'm no good to anybody like this. I need to move so I can think and get better." She glanced around the area, before her eyes settled back on the old woman. Indicating the deerskin on the ground, she asked, "May I borrow this, please, Asha'belannar?"

Flemeth nodded and Kaslyn awkwardly got to her feet. Alistair simply looked at them both uncomprehendingly. Kaslyn lifted a corner of the hide and waited since he was still sitting on the other half of it. Flemeth eyed the perplexed Warden and said, "She makes a good point. I could use some more firewood, young man." She gestured towards an area to the northwest behind her home and explained, "Not far from here, several trees came down in the storm. Why don't you go chop up the fallen timbers and stack them near my hut?"

"Um…, sure," Alistair replied uncertainly. He stood up and Flemeth directed him to an axe just inside the doorway before reminding him again to cut only the dead wood. With a last tentative look at the Dalish, he slung the chopper to his shoulder and started down the path the old witch recommended.

Kaslyn took the skin to the small clearing she had spotted on the eastern side of Flemeth's cabin. Spreading the hide on the grass, she sat in the center and began some stretching exercises. At first she could not bend or reach very far but as she repeated the motions slowly and carefully, her muscles warmed and she was gradually able to move more freely and with less discomfort. The constriction of the bandages at her hip and shoulder started to hinder her and she hesitated before peeking underneath the wrappings. Still smeared with some herbal remedy, the scars were definitely fresh and tender, but looked remarkably well-healed. She debated about removing the dressings but decided she should probably leave everything in place for a while yet - she only just woke up, Morrigan had said her injuries were severe, and Alistair had thought she was dead, after all. When she felt capable, she stood and continued with other maneuvers, gradually increasing her mobility as best she could. While her joints loosened, her thoughts seemed to become unstuck as well.

She was sad about Duncan but she was also distressed to realize she had lost everything she had brought from home, including her bear hide and other personal belongings. Recalling the loss of Hahren Paivel's journals and Tamlen's bow caught her breath and caused a sharp pain in her heart. She closed her stinging eyes briefly and was forced to stop until she could swallow the lump in her throat. When her breathing felt steady again, she continued her motions and her musings. What were she and Alistair supposed to do now? The witches had reported that Ostagar was lost and the darkspawn were more numerous than ever, but with Duncan and the rest of the Grey Wardens dead …. She didn't know anything about being a Grey Warden. All she had were the snippets Duncan and Alistair had shared. She knew that Grey Wardens were an ancient order of extraordinary warriors that battled darkspawn and according to Asha'belannar – if the claim of Morrigan's mother was to be believed – Wardens united the lands of men against the Blight. Kaslyn may have fought monsters but she didn't think her combat skills were exceptional. She had simply been trying to stay alive long enough to get to the top of the tower and complete her task. She also didn't know anything about joining people to a single, grand purpose. She had talked her way into mischief and out of trouble a few times – okay, maybe more than 'a few' – but, obviously, stopping a Blight wasn't the same thing. A shadow of pain crossed her face but not for any physical discomfort; if she were truly skilled or persuasive, she would have gotten Tamlen away from that accursed mirror before he could disappear. She sighed dejectedly. She had counted on looking to Duncan for wisdom and leadership but now he and all the other Grey Wardens were dead. Dalish traditions suggested that Alistair's experience and seniority would put him in charge now. Was that how the Wardens worked? What would he decide to do? Would she ever think of herself as a Warden? What _could_ she and Alistair do now? Her head throbbed again as her thoughts came full circle and she stopped that despairing line of thought. The current state of affairs was just too much to take in all at once. She focused on her exercises while her jumbled thoughts settled like a flock of birds scattered across a field, and the painful tension spiking her temples eventually receded as her shoulders slowly relaxed.

Alistair, carrying an armload of firewood back to the cabin, emerged from the woods. Catching sight of Kaslyn, he stopped and watched her slow and graceful movements as she extended her palms forward then deliberately pivoted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other while she turned in a half-circle.

"Dalish healing practices."

"Maker's breath!" he yelped, nearly leaping out of his skin at the unexpected voice by his shoulder. Managing to hang onto his cargo, he looked around to see Morrigan standing next to him.

She glanced at him with a sly smirk and asked, "You have not seen such things before?"

"Um, no," Alistair answered. Fairly certain she had startled him on purpose, he scowled at the witch.

"'Tis unsurprising," Morrigan nodded smugly. She considered the elf again, "The Dalish are a very private folk according to my mother."

Alistair had a sudden intuition as he saw the dark-haired woman watch Kaslyn. "I take it you've never seen these Dalish practices either."

Morrigan frowned slightly and Alistair knew he was right. It was his turn to smirk.

"Overtaxing her recovery would be unwise," the witch remarked offhandedly, "I doubt Mother would be willing to repair any carelessly reopened wounds." She had the satisfaction of seeing the warrior's eyes once again narrow on the Dalish. Before he could comment, Kaslyn finished her routine, paused, then picked up the hide and returned to front of the hut and out of their view.

Relieved to see that his sister Warden seemed to recognize her limits, Alistair continued his task while Morrigan disappeared into the woods. The witches' hut was actually built on a small island surrounded by a lake with only one pathway connecting to the islet. Three more trips saw Flemeth's requested woodpile neatly started at a convenient location against the ruined tower on the opposite side of the hut from Kaslyn's recent spot. Returning to chop up more of the trees that yesterday's gale had blown down, he decided it was good to have something simple to do. The activity occupied part of his mind and helped him work off the lingering tension he had felt while waiting for Kaslyn to wake. Once again he was amazed at the Dalish. Duncan had spoken highly of his newest recruit and she continued to impress. His thoughts sobered. What were he and Kaslyn supposed to do now? No Blight had ever been defeated without an army, and in the span of a day Ferelden's king and his forces had just been wiped out, the nation's barely-two-dozen Grey Wardens had been reduced to merely two, and the darkspawn threat had only grown. What could he and Kaslyn do against all of that? Lost in his thoughts, he continued to make periodic trips between the growing woodpile and the forest. Splitting more dead wood, Alistair eventually felt a lump rise in his throat, and his eyes and nose stung so he had to abort the next swing of the axe. He had greatly respected and admired Duncan, and the rest of the Wardens had been the brothers he had always wanted. He had belonged with them and now they were all gone. Kaslyn was all that remained. Alistair was thankful he hadn't been left completely alone but he barely knew the Dalish. She was scarcely past her Joining, she hadn't known the others nearly as well as he had, and she wouldn't understand his grief. He was certain the witches didn't care, and Alistair felt bereft as he never had before. His vision blurred and the weight of his sorrow finally bowed his shoulders. Resting his forehead on the end of the axe handle, he struggled against a renewed surge of anguish and despair.

While Kaslyn stretched, she eventually concluded that there were a few, small matters that she could and should address. Clear the mourning fog, she thought, and a path through this thicket of problems should become easier to find. To that end, she had come up with a plan. When she felt sufficiently mobile again, she completed her final routine, made sure of her scheme one last time, and then went back to the front of the cabin where the witch still rocked. She replaced the hide precisely as it had been, then slipped back inside the empty hut. Finding her gear, she pulled on her weapon harness, and after fishing her brush out of a belt pouch, she even managed to carefully tidy and retie her hair although her injured shoulder twinged once or twice. Stepping outside, she met the old woman's curiously-arched eyebrows with a polite inquiry about where she might go hunting and the explanation that it was only right that she repay some of Asha'belannar's hospitality. Flemeth's shrewd, amber eyes narrowed on her momentarily before she directed the Dalish to the southeastern side of the valley. The hunter thanked her then struck out.

Her first shot at a rabbit she spotted was laughable. Partway through the draw, her shoulder abruptly objected to the pull of the bow and caused her arrow to fly off wildly. All their foes throughout the tower had been fairly immediate, so she hadn't used as many arrows as she might have, but she was still conservative with the ones she had left. She had also been taught not to be wasteful so, gritting her teeth against a curse, Kaslyn went in search of the barb to make certain she hadn't wounded anything else. It would have been a miracle if she had and, as expected, she found the errant shaft halfway up the side of a tree. All of her injuries protested when she climbed up to retrieve it, but her sarcasm merely pointed out that the wounds wouldn't be so abused if they hadn't complained about shooting the bow in the first place. Arrow recovered, she continued her search.

By the time she secured the game she wanted, the sun was sliding towards the western horizon, and her shoulder and hip ached fiercely. Deciding they really didn't feel any worse than when she first woke up, Kaslyn ignored the discomfort. Her hunt had taken her up the eastern side of the valley and now she circled back from the north to the cabin's southwestern path. She was nearly to her destination when an intriguing scent unexpectedly caught her attention. Turning her steps to investigate, she discovered Alistair chopping wood as Asha'belannar had requested. He had taken off his shirt and she couldn't help but notice that the brave warrior sported as many bruises as she did. Shaking her head, she started to leave him to it when he suddenly stopped in mid-swing. He bowed his head and rested the axe head on the stump in front of him then slowly bent over to press his forehead atop his two fists gripping the end of the upright handle. His shoulders quivered slightly and she heard his breath catch. Strangely enough, she felt her heart go out to the big man. Looking aside from his grief, her downcast gaze was caught by the neatly-repaired leather she wore and she remembered the kind compassion he had demonstrated ever since her first day in Ostagar. After a brief hesitation, she approached him from behind but he made no indication he was aware of her. Impulsively she raised her hand but paused. Biting her lip, she drew her fingers back, uncertain if she was doing the right thing or even if the gesture would find any welcome. Grabbing her nerve, she dared to gently rest her right hand against the warrior's bare shoulder and softly told him in the way of her people, "I know Duncan was your friend. I feel your loss."

Startled by the warm touch, Alistair jerked upright. He inhaled deeply, nodding once in acknowledgement, and then hurriedly pinched at his eyes before turning to see Kaslyn regarding him. "Just wiping some of the sweat from my face," he assured her lamely. He blinked his vision clear then peered more closely at her. The usual tail that contained most of her curly, red hair was now accented by a few, white flowers and green leaves which had been woven through the cinch. Over her left shoulder she carried a short branch from which hung a pair of geese at one end and from the other dangled a brace of rabbits. Coupled with her unique appearance, her serene demeanor, and her noiseless arrival, Kaslyn seemed every inch like a woodland spirit materialized out of her forest home. The otherworldly image was marred, however, and he frowned when he caught sight of the blood that had seeped through the bandage visible past the edge of her collar. "You've gone and done too much," he scolded her. "I won't have my sister Warden crippling herself because she's too impatient to take time to heal!"

She glanced down at her wounded shoulder underneath the branch then back at him and shrugged her uninjured side indifferently, "It was necessary." Kaslyn eyed him curiously then tilted her face with a shy smile tugging at her mouth, "I didn't think to hear anyone call me 'sister' again. You sound almost like my clanmates."

Surprised by the unexpected lift in his heavy heart that her quiet smile evoked, he scowled exasperatedly at her, "You're a terrible patient."

"Seeing as I've never had much 'patience'," she riposted jovially, "Yes. And, yes," she added, "I've heard it all before."

"Well, you're still going to have to change your bandages," he insisted, "and we might as well do that now, seeing as how you've already bled right through those."

She frowned at him darkly with her lower lip jutting out and tartly inquired, "Don't you have firewood to chop?"

Alistair felt a trace of his usual humor resurface. It was his turn to shrug dismissively, "This is necessary." She rolled her eyes at him and his faint urge to smile grew but the expression didn't quite appear. He picked up the shirt he had laid aside and handed it to her before gathering the latest armload of wood and the axe and walking with her back to the cabin. After a stop by the large, tidy woodpile, the Wardens rejoined the witches. Morrigan only glanced up disinterestedly at their return but Flemeth arched a curious brow and snorted softly when Alistair asked after fresh bandages. The younger witch looked up again to turn a dire glare on Kaslyn before she gestured imperiously for the Dalish to enter the hut so she might examine the wounds out of Alistair's view. He nearly smiled again at the sour look the hunter threw him, but then volunteered to clean the game Kaslyn had brought back. When he finished, he gave the carcasses to Flemeth before washing himself off with a bucket from the rain barrel at the corner of the hut. Somewhat refreshed, he pulled on his shirt, rolled up the sleeves, and came back to the fire to find Kaslyn with her left arm in a cloth sling tied from her right shoulder. She was seated on one end of the deerskin and attending the rabbits set to roast over the fire.

She looked up at his return, "Andaran atish'an. They decided to stay inside tonight. Asha'belannar said if I was well enough to hunt, I was well enough to sleep somewhere else besides her bed. It looks like it's just you and me."

Alistair felt his throat tighten at her words but distracted himself from his grief by inquiring, "What are those strange words? You used them before. Andaran? Asha -?"

Kaslyn cocked her head warily at him for a few moments then answered, "Andaran atish'an means 'enter this place in peace'. Asha'belannar. It means 'woman of many years'. That's how the Dalish know the legend of Flemeth."

"Seems like a pretty word for an old … legend," Alistair mused. Or a really old lady, he thought, startled by another faint spark of his usual irreverent humor. He took a seat on the other end of the hide.

Kaslyn's eyes sparkled briefly as if she heard his wayward notion. "Asha'belannar is considered a woman of much powerful wisdom," she replied, sprinkling some herbs on the meat over the flames. Her features became subdued and she hesitated before she looked at Alistair and asked, "Do you want to talk about Duncan?"

Caught off-guard, Alistair felt the usual defenses slam shut around his heart and he quickly answered, "You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as long as I did."

"That doesn't mean I don't mourn his loss," Kaslyn responded quietly.

He looked over to see she was gazing into the fire and there was a forlorn expression on her face.

She looked back up and caught his inquisitive eyes on her. "He was … the last connection I had to my clan…." She shrugged carelessly and winced before softly adding, "I just thought you might need to talk …." She looked into the glowing embers, chewing her lower lip, and wondered what she was thinking. Alistair wasn't Dalish, and would know nothing of the People's traditions. She had no idea what sort of rituals the humans observed for their dead, other than apparently burning them. This had been a stupid idea, she decided miserably. Maybe shadow-Tamlen had been right, after all; maybe she really was all alone.

Alistair looked down. He hadn't thought of that. Duncan had been the only other person who knew anything about Kaslyn's home. Duncan had actually met the people that until only very recently – scarcely a week ago, he realized - she had called family. It occurred to Alistair that he might have known the dignified Warden longer but the Dalish had known Duncan from an entirely different perspective. He felt the hollow sorrow in his heart connect with her sad and lonely demeanor. Recognizing neither of them had to be so alone, he quietly confessed, "I … I should have handled it better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that this could happen." His voice grew rough, "Any of us could die in battle. I shouldn't have lost it, not when so much is riding on us, not with the Blight and … and everything." He looked up to find her blue eyes on him, "I'm sorry."

Kaslyn was not expecting a response, let alone his regret, but assured him, "There's no harm done, Alistair. I understand he was like a father to you, so there's no need to apologize."

Disconcerted by her insight, he nonetheless appreciated her gracious forgiveness and tried to smile but could only nod slightly. Clearing his throat, he remarked, "I'd … like to have a proper funeral for him... maybe once this is all done, if we're still alive. I don't think he had any family to speak of."

"He had you," Kaslyn told him encouragingly.

"I suppose he did," Alistair agreed, surprised at the notion, and his eyes considered her face again. That unexpected assertion did make him feel a little better. His gaze dropped back to the fire before them and with soft reluctance he ventured, "It probably sounds stupid, but part of me wishes I was with him – in the battle. I feel like I abandoned him."

"No, I understand completely," Kaslyn murmured wistfully while her throat tightened and her eyes smarted as she studied her toes. She still felt that way about Tamlen and now vaguely about Duncan to a lesser extent. She never saw her clanmate actually fall either but, unlike him, the Warden had ordered them to leave. The hand slung at her waist unconsciously pressed her stomach as she recalled the sharp blow in the last instant before the eerie light swallowed Tamlen, and it was no consolation to realize that he had sent her away, too.

Alistair felt her sorrow mirror his and in a subdued voice finally attempted to recover. "Of course, I'd be dead then, wouldn't I? It's not like that would make him happier." He paused then cleared his throat again and went on, "I think he came from Highever, or so he said. Maybe I'll go up there sometime, see about putting up something in his honor…. I don't know." He paused before admitting, "I have no idea what the Grey Wardens do for their … when they fall in battle." He looked at her inquisitively, "The Dalish don't practice cremation, do they? How do your people honor your dead?"

Worrying the inner corner of her lip, Kaslyn considered the question. She was a little uncomfortable with his interest but judged that this wasn't really the time to hold back completely. They were the only two members of their order now, she reminded herself; the only two Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. There would be plenty of time to measure secrets later. She looked at him and somewhat guardedly replied, "We bury them and plant a tree over their remains."

Alistair brightened, "That … sounds quite beautiful, life springing from death." His depression eased ever so slightly and he was finally able to smile a little as he regarded her, "Thank you. Really. I mean it. It was good to talk about it, at least a little."

Braced for disgust and criticism, his response surprised her. She ducked her head self-consciously and remarked, "He was … a friend of mine, too."

"That's good to hear," Alistair nodded, "It's nice to know I'm not the only one who remembers him well."

Kaslyn paused before she peeked back at him through her forelocks and offered, "Maybe I'll go to Highever with you, when you go."

Alistair's smile came a bit more readily this time, "I'd like that. So would he, I think."

Kaslyn hesitantly tendered her own shy smile. From the smell, she could tell the rabbits were done and she started to take them off of the fire. She had some difficulty. Morrigan had cleaned and re-bandaged her wounds extra thoroughly this time, and for good measure had bound her left arm in a sling secured to her waist to keep Kaslyn's shoulder as immobile as possible. Alistair saw her problem, hastily got to his knees, and removed the meat from the flames for her. She nodded her thanks and directed him to set the roasts aside. She waited until he settled back into his seat before murmuring, "When… well, the first night Duncan and I spent away from my clan, we cooked two rabbits for dinner." She paused reflectively before looking back at him. "It was the first time I'd ever spent any significant time around a human and I … didn't really know what to expect."

"Really?" Alistair asked with some interest, "You'd never been around humans before? Not even to a town or village"

Kaslyn shook her head. "I'd deterred strangers from finding our camp, or causing trouble, but those encounters were … brief and discouraging," she added drolly. She was pleased to see Alistair's faintly amused comprehension.

His eyes narrowed on her before he asked, "It was just like this, wasn't it?"

Her eyebrows twitched upward slightly at the Warden's perceptiveness, Kaslyn nibbled her lower lip before hesitantly pointing out, "Well, there was no witch's hut, we weren't camped in a swamp, and Duncan had met my clan…."

"So it's a close recreation," Alistair added with a hint of his former humor.

"Almost exactly," she agreed with faint merriment, pleased to see his deep grief beginning to relent a little. She knew what that was like. She wavered before slowly confessing, "I'm … glad now that Duncan was the first human I … truly met, that I could … learn to trust." She glanced over and saw his brief, understanding nod. He drew a small knife from his belt, reached over to the two roasts where they were allowed to rest, and sliced off one of the haunches. She was startled when he held it out to her.

"Eat up," he encouraged, "You'll need your strength to get well so we can decide where we go from here."

She hesitated then accepted the leg with her free hand and studied it momentarily. These rabbits had been cooked the same way as when she had first camped with Duncan. She had no idea what his favorite food had been but this was the best she could do to honor the man who had saved her life - at least twice by her reckoning - and she hoped his spirit might be pleased that she remembered this much at least. After she bit into her share of meat, Alistair started to eat his own portion and she saw his eyebrows rise with appreciation at the flavor. When she gnawed the first leg to the bones, Alistair held his own piece between his teeth and promptly cut her another, insisting that she had to eat more. She frowned but he dismissed her expression and thrust the second haunch at her. Hungrier than she thought, she managed to finish that leg but denied any more afterwards on the grounds she was honestly full. While they ate, Kaslyn encouraged Alistair to share his memories of Duncan and the rest of the Grey Wardens. He spoke to her of a few of them, including Cassos the brawler who could turn anything he picked up into a weapon, Alonso the archer who could hit the most impossibly distant targets, and Finnegan the jokester.

"Fin Joined the order the same time I did," Alistair told her. A reminiscent smile involuntarily teased his mouth, "I'm not sure he was ever serious. He always had a joke or comment ready and he could make you laugh until …." His voice trailed off and his gaze dropped.

"I'm sorry," she apologized after he faltered, "I only knew Duncan for less than a week. I don't have many memories of him to share."

"No, no, I understand," the warrior sighed, "You've nothing to apologize for, Kaslyn."

She took a deep breath of her own, "I don't even know what Duncan ever saw in me to make him think I would be a good Warden."

"You don't?" Alistair asked with wonder.

Kaslyn shook her head. Not particularly ready to share the pain of Tamlen's loss or her ineptitude about getting tainted, she chose to divulge the other incident. "I didn't pick his pocket or win any tournaments but he managed to convince the Keeper that I should go with him. I always wondered what he saw in me - especially after I fell off the horse maybe a day after we left my clan."

"You fell off a horse?" Alistair asked with the same incredulity. "Oh, this I have to hear!" His spontaneous grin hid a wince. He knew she had been tainted before the Joining, but given her silence on the issue, he was uncertain how to broach the subject with her. As soon as he spoke, he suddenly wondered if this was her way of opening the topic with him, but he didn't get the sense she was aiming for anything serious. The twinkling in her eyes seemed to confirm his feeling.

"Oh, yes," she affirmed and her wry grin appeared with the memory, "We'd been riding for about half a day when I fell asleep behind him and tumbled off the back. When I came to a stop, I knew he had to be especially impressed."

Although his heartache was still fresh, Alistair snorted with amusement at her self-deprecating tale. Behind a substantial reserve, Kaslyn clearly hid a friendly demeanor and a keen intellect, but he was beginning to catch deeper hints of a kind heart and a playful mischief that he suspected might rival his own normally irreverent humor. He wiped his mouth and took a drink of water from a clay cup before remarking, "His letter arrived a day or two before you did. He wrote that he had come across a clan of Dalish elves and was pleased one had been convinced to join the order. He said that your clan considered you a highly skilled and resourceful hunter." Kaslyn blinked wide eyes at him before looking out beyond the flames. Alistair hesitated before quietly adding, "I remember he also wrote that your insight, determination, and courage were quite impressive." She was still looking away from him and after a pause he inquired, "Kaslyn?" He heard her sniffle and saw her abruptly wipe at her face with her hand before she turned her gaze back to him.

"And then I go and skillfully fall off a horse," she observed dryly. "Maybe he was just politely saying I was rude, stubborn, and reckless."

"I don't think so," he shook his head with a half-smile and caught a blush as her eyes shyly dropped away from him again.

They finished their meal and Alistair went to clean up the cooking utensils while she dealt with the leftovers. When he came back, he asked Kaslyn about her introduction to Ostagar. During her tale, Alistair privately doubted that he would have had the mettle to walk alone into an encampment similarly full of Dalish. With his encouragement, Kaslyn went on to share more of her initial experiences amidst the king's army. The fire was warm, his belly was full, his friend was recovering, and Alistair eventually stretched out on his back, pillowing his head on one arm. Emotionally exhausted and lulled by the sound of the Dalish's soft, lilting voice, he was soon yawning.

Kaslyn recognized the signs and kept talking about some of her encounters in the human camp. She deliberately lowered her volume to a soothing tone and discreetly watched as the Warden eventually nodded off to sleep. She considered for a few seconds then found her pack, untied her cloak, and draped it over him so he wouldn't catch a chill. Intending to do what she could to honor the memory of Duncan and the others she had met in Ostagar, she stayed awake, quietly singing the songs for the departed, and tending to the fire until she accidentally dozed off.

When Alistair woke the next morning, it was with a faint, unfamiliar melody vanishing in the back of his mind. He was lying under a light cover and the sun had just cleared the cloudy horizon. Rolling over, he looked around to see Kaslyn sitting nearby with one foot tucked under her. Her arm still rested in the sling and her right knee propped up her chin as she contemplated a spread of various items. At his movement she glanced over and smiled when she saw he was awake.

Alistair unconsciously returned the sunny greeting then yawned and got up to take care of business. Revived from a quick wash in the water bucket, he came back and saw the Dalish absently holding out a bread board with a small loaf, a hunk of cheese, and some roast fowl. Accepting the offering, he settled down to eat. While he tore through his breakfast, Kaslyn slowly retied her folded cloak to her pack with her free hand. Soon Flemeth came out of the woods to join them. Setting a pail of water next to her rocking chair, she began to strip and clean some roots she had gathered.

When Alistair finished his meal, Kaslyn reached into a small bag on her left and produced a shiny red apple which she handed to the big Warden sitting on her right. "Duncan gave this to me at the end of the war council." She smiled bashfully at him and added, "It's probably silly of me but I thought you might like to have it." His features brightened but before he could speak, they heard a soft noise from Flemeth. They both glanced over to see the witch observing them with interest.

"How intriguing," the old woman murmured before resuming her task. "Fate or chance, I wonder?"

Both young people exchanged a mystified look before Alistair smiled appreciatively at the hunter. Instead of immediately taking a bite, he used his knife to cut the fruit in half and presented a piece back to Kaslyn. Startled, she accepted his offer. Enjoying the crisp apple together with her, he finally noticed she had one of her belts stretched out before her and was considering the contents of the attached pouches. There were several items, ranging from materials as ordinary as a copper cup and an ornate brass key, to a few leftover healing and lyrium potions, to odd things he didn't immediately recognize, including a hand-length piece of horn that was intricately carved with strange-looking stags with elaborate antlers. A few, smaller bags remained closed amidst her collection and Alistair curiously indicated one of purple velvet. She wordlessly allowed that he was free to explore it, and he picked up the sack to carefully spill the contents into his palm. Amidst a few pretty green stones and crystal quartzes, he was startled to see several garnets, an amethyst, and even a sapphire amongst the colored stones. "Maker's breath, Kaslyn! There must be a small fortune in gems here."

She shrugged her good shoulder indifferently at his astonished comment, "They're just pretty rocks." She reached over and plucked a few larger, black stones from the pile and showed him. "I thought these were keen, though."

Alistair was surprised to see what she held and asked, "Do you know what these are?" She shook her head and looked at him inquisitively. He held up one of the stones. Orange light flickered behind the symbol like a flame. "They're runestones. This one has the ancient symbol for fire. When applied to a weapon that's made to hold this stone, it will cause the blade to ignite."

"Like Calvin's spell in the tower?" Kaslyn asked, tilting her head.

Alistair nodded, "But this powers itself and no mage is necessary to maintain the effect." He held up the second stone and the red light behind the symbol pulsed gently, "The purpose of this one is to slow your opponent." He held the third up and its carving glowed with a soft, steady, amber light, "This one is the ancient mark for dwarves. It's called a dweomer rune. It provides the bearer a resistance to magic." He saw her nod in understanding and asked, "How did you wind up with these?"

Kaslyn shrugged again, "I found them in different places. They looked interesting, so I dropped them in with the others." She looked at him for a moment then hesitantly asked, "How did you know all that about them?"

"I've always been interested in arcane imagery," Alistair admitted diffidently before he gestured to the belt spread on the hide in front of her, "What's all this for?"

"I was trying to see what I had left to work with," she explained.

Before he could remark, Flemeth's husky voice drawled from nearby. "I hope there is something useful against the darkspawn?"

Alistair frowned but Kaslyn was unruffled. She turned her head to curiously regard the witch on her left and inquired, "Will you help us fight this Blight, Asha'belannar?"

"Me?" The innocent question apparently startled the old woman but she quickly demurred, "I am just an old woman who lives in the Wilds. I know nothing of Blights and darkspawn."

Deciding he was as rested and ready to tackle current events as he was likely to get, Alistair muttered, "Well, whatever Loghain's insanity, he obviously thinks the darkspawn are a minor threat. We must warn everyone that isn't the case."

"And who will believe you?' Flemeth scoffed with amusement, "Unless you think to convince this Loghain of his mistake?"

"He just betrayed his own king!" Alistair shot back angrily. "If Arl Eamon knew what he did at Ostagar, he would be the first to call for his execution!"

Kaslyn thoughtfully observed this exchange without comment. She didn't know anything about kings and precious little more about darkspawn or Blights but she understood the concept of betrayal. Loghain had left Duncan, the Grey Wardens, the king, and everyone else to die at Ostagar. She didn't understand how he could abandon his own people but she recognized he would be long gone by now. So, as far as she knew, that still left the original problem. "Then we need to find this Archdemon."

"By ourselves?" Alistair asked incredulously, "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of half a dozen nations at his back." He hesitated then admitted, "Not to mention, I don't _know_ how."

"How to kill the Archdemon or how to raise an army?" The old woman asked. "It seems to me, these are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?"

"I… I-I don't know," Alistair stammered uncertainly, "Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called…." He continued with more angry conviction, "And Arl Eamon would _never_ stand for this, surely."

"Arl Eamon?" Kaslyn prompted, "Is this someone important?" She recalled hearing the name mentioned a few times in the army camp. "You think the arl would believe us over the teyrn?"

Alistair looked at her and replied thoughtfully, "I suppose …. Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar. He still has all his men and he was Cailan's uncle. I _know_ him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet…." Alistair's eyes lit up, "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"

Startled at the Warden's spontaneous inspiration, Kaslyn rapidly considered. If they could not make Loghain answer for his treachery or bring down the Archdemon by themselves, then they needed an alternative. Redcliffe was somewhere to go and – if Alistair was correct – a possible source of advice and direction. Having done her best to acknowledge the sorrow of their losses, it was time to step out onto a possible trail into the future, and Kaslyn agreed, "Now _that_ sounds like an excellent idea."

Flemeth chuckled, "Such determination! How intriguing!"

Alistair's rising excitement suddenly faltered, "I still don't know if Arl Eamon's help would be enough. He can't defeat the darkspawn horde by himself!"

"Everyone will see the danger the Blight poses, right?' Kaslyn asked. There had been a lot of doubters at Ostagar, she remembered.

"You could wait for the Archdemon to make its appearance," Flemeth remarked mockingly, "I imagine that might be convincing."

"It's been centuries since the last Blight," Alistair answered, "Nobody will take it seriously until it's too late."

Pondering his recent notion, Kaslyn mused, "Surely there are other allies we could call on." Her eyes flashed with recollection and instantly met Alistair's bright, hazel gaze.

"Of course!" Alistair's eyes lit again at the same time Kaslyn looked at him eagerly. "The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

"I may be old," Flemeth commented deliberately, crossing her arms before her to gesture with one hand, "but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else … this sounds like an army to me."

Alistair's gaze traveled from the Dalish to the witch and back as he asked, "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and … build an army?"

"I doubt it will be as easy as that," Kaslyn couldn't help murmuring.

Flemeth laughed, "And when is it ever?"

The look the witch gave the Dalish was challenging and Kaslyn felt herself responding to it. It might be a ridiculously difficult mission but this was the most enthusiasm Alistair had shown since she woke up and she realized it was her turn to keep their momentum going. "Well, why not?" She tilted a grin at the big warrior and dared, "Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?"

"It's always been the Grey Wardens' duty to stand against a Blight," Alistair agreed staunchly, "And right now, _we're_ the Grey Wardens!"

"So you are set then?" Flemeth inquired, "Ready to be Grey Wardens?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," Kaslyn replied, hoping the treaties really were still in her pack. Swiftly replacing all her odds and ends back in their pouches and slinging her belt around her waist, she stood and Alistair rose with her. While the warrior changed into his padded undershirt and started donning the rest of his splintmail armor, the Dalish nodded her head at the old woman, "Ma serannas for everything, Asha'belannar."

"No, no, thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I," the old woman smiled, "Now, before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."

Morrigan emerged from the cabin at that moment. "The stew is bubbling, Mother dear," she glanced at the others, adding, "Shall we have two guests for lunch or none?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl, and _you_ will be joining them," Flemeth told her.

"Such a shame - What?" Shocked, Morrigan's head snapped around to stare at her mother.

"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" Flemeth's laugh was a throaty chuckle.

"Ma serannas," Kaslyn thanked the old woman again, "But if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us …."

"Her magic will be useful," Flemeth insisted, "Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

"Have _I_ no say in this?" Morrigan demanded.

Flemeth eyed her daughter, "You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance." She divided a stern gaze between Kaslyn and Alistair, "As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

Kaslyn blinked, a little uncertain how taking Morrigan with them compensated Asha'belannar for her rescue, but the old witch had saved them and if she wanted anything in return, it was too late to quibble about it now. She looked at Alistair. Busily strapping on his breastplate, he glanced up at her and shrugged indifferently. Hesitant to presume on his authority, she cautiously accepted, "Very well, we'll take her with us."

"Not to … look a gift horse in the mouth," Alistair began thoughtfully from where he now secured his pauldrons, "but … won't this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate."

The Dalish winced uncomfortably and Flemeth dryly observed, "If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point … taken," he grudgingly acknowledged.

Kaslyn leaned towards him and whispered, "Well, you did walk into that one." His disgruntled glance was met by her impish grin.

"Mother…," Morrigan protested, "This is not how I wanted this. I'm not even ready-!"

Flemeth gazed intently at her daughter, "You must be ready. Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn." Her stare intensified, "They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

"I … understand," Morrigan conceded unwillingly.

"And you, Wardens? Do you understand?" Flemeth looked at them sharply. "I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed."

Kaslyn and Alistair exchanged another look. He finished adjusting the armor on his shoulders and upper arms, leaving Kaslyn to say what she knew a mother would want to hear. "She won't come to harm with us."

"Allow me to get my things, if you please," Morrigan reluctantly requested and turned for the cabin.

After Alistair finished strapping on his bracers and pulling on his gloves, he and Kaslyn fastened their weapon harnesses and collected anything else that belonged to them. It wasn't very much. Morrigan emerged from her home a short time later with her staff and a pack of her own. She nodded coolly at them, "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there." Her shoulders stiffened as she drew herself up and added in a measured tone, "Or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours."

"No, I prefer you speak your mind," Kaslyn answered before Alistair could reply.

Flemeth laughed, "You will regret saying that."

"Dear, _sweet_ Mother," Morrigan addressed her sarcastically. "You are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment."

"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself – or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," Flemeth responded dryly.

Still trying to defer to his seniority, Kaslyn glanced at the big Warden, "I have no problems with your presence if Alistair doesn't."

Morrigan arched one disdainful eyebrow at the man's sour expression, "From the way he glares, I imagine that answer is clear."

Alistair finally spoke up, "I just …." He looked back at Kaslyn, "Do you _really_ want to take her along just because her _mother_ says so?"

Kaslyn regarded him and stated the obvious, "We need all the help we can get."

He shifted his shoulders as if the weight of his armor had suddenly doubled before he grudgingly allowed, "I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies _where they could find them_." This last was directed disparagingly at Morrigan.

The beautiful witch cast him a sneering smile, "I am so _pleased_ to have your approval!"

Kaslyn closed her eyes, thumbed the bridge of her nose, and sighed. Oh, this was going to be a _fun_ adventure with these two. A thought occurred and she looked at Morrigan. "Actually, I have some questions …."

"I _may_ have answers," the witch agreed, "Ask."

"Have you never been outside the Wilds?" Kaslyn had never left her clan or travelled without at least one clanmate present before Duncan came along. She knew how intimidating the wide-open world could be when venturing into it alone for the first time and she wondered what sort of experience the witch had.

"From time to time," Morrigan responded, "I have been to the village I mentioned, watched its people, and pondered what curious beings they are." She nodded absently, "On occasion, I purchased goods from the village merchants. There I spoke with men, a little. There they stared and knew me as an outsider." She gestured towards Flemeth, "Mother wishes for me to expand the horizon of my experience beyond the Wilds. Even she was not born here."

"Is that what you want?" Kaslyn inquired softly.

Startled at first, Morrigan jumped on the question. "What _I_ want is to _see_ mountains. I wish to witness the ocean and step into its waters. I want to experience a city rather than see it in my mind." She hesitated before adding reluctantly, "So, yes, this _is_ what I want. Actually leaving is … harder than I thought, however. Perhaps Mother is right – it must simply be done quickly."

Kaslyn nodded. She understood all those feelings all too well. For as long as she could remember, she had always wondered what lay behind the next tree or over the next hill. She had wondered about mountains and oceans and other phenomena but she had also experienced the pain of suddenly leaving home. She didn't want to prolong Morrigan's anticipation longer than necessary but she still had questions. "Tell us about this village to the north."

Morrigan seemed more confident now she was not speaking about herself and readily answered, "'Tis a small place of little consequence called Lothering. No more than a stop along the Imperial Highway, where travelers purchase goods from local farms and smiths." Her golden eyes flickered briefly at Alistair, "I would go more often were it not for the town's chantry. It makes the village particularly intolerant and unpleasant for a stranger such as me."

That did not bode well for a Dalish either, Kaslyn reflected uneasily. Beside her, Alistair spoke up.

"A chantry? And they never, in all this time, thought that _maybe_ you were a witch?"

"Of course they have," Morrigan dismissed the question casually. "They even called out their Templars once. They found nothing."

Not particularly happy with the idea of visiting a human village – and an apparently hostile one at that – Kaslyn wondered, "Is there any reason to go to Lothering then?"

"I mention it for its tavern," Morrigan replied, turning her gaze back to the Dalish, "where travelers gather with news from other places. 'Tis small enough that our appearance might go unnoticed." She hesitated before adding, "Beyond that, 'tis close and I know the way."

Kaslyn was thoughtful. She supposed there was something to be said for their first destination being somewhere they could learn what might be happening elsewhere and at least one of them knew the location. That was a new experience. Dalish never particularly cared where they were so long as there were few or no humans. The People generally went wherever the wind and the halla took them whenever the Keeper decided it was time to move. Oddly enough, they kept excellent records and maps marked with any unusual sites that might have held elven history. Landmarks like ruins or caves … Kaslyn looked up at the dark-haired woman and asked, "How are we going to get past the darkspawn?"

Morrigan gestured at Alistair and replied, "The real question is how we are going to get your friend past the darkspawn, is it not?"

Kaslyn looked at the Warden blankly.

"That's true," he admitted solemnly. He shifted his shoulders again and explained, "We can sense the darkspawn. Conversely, they can sense us."

Kaslyn, nibbling her bottom lip, studied the grass at her feet for a few seconds before she looked back at him, "I don't sense any darkspawn."

"You won't right away, no. It takes time," Alistair told her gently, not bothering to reveal there were none in the vicinity. He concurred with the witch, "We should be able to sneak past smaller groups, but larger ones or particularly intelligent darkspawn will always detect us."

"Mother has given me something else for them to 'smell' instead as we pass by," Morrigan revealed, "'Tis important we head _out_ of the Wilds, however, not farther in."

Kaslyn's gaze sharpened on her, "The darkspawn are camped farther in the forest?"

"They come from underground, like an eruption," Morrigan clarified, "They broke through deep within the forest and that is where they will be most concentrated."

Finally accepting there was no point in provoking the hive unprepared, Kaslyn chose to find out more about their guide's capabilities. "I know you're familiar with woodcraft, Morrigan, and your mother mentioned your magic, but may I ask what skills you have, exactly?"

Morrigan nodded, "I know a few spells, though I am nowhere near as powerful as Mother. I have also studied history and your Grey Warden treaties."

"Can you cook?" Alistair asked bluntly.

"I … _can_ cook," Morrigan answered, frowning distastefully, "Yes."

"Then we can all take turns," Kaslyn interjected, trying to head off another spat.

"Right," Alistair agreed, "My cooking will kill us. That's all I meant."

Morrigan smiled serenely at him. "I also know at least fifteen different poisons that grow right here in this marsh! Not that I would suggest 'tis at all related to 'cooking'," she added demurely.

Kaslyn sighed and started to bite her lip again before she suddenly smiled sweetly at Morrigan and remarked cheerfully, "Hey! I do too! We should compare recipes some time!" The Dalish didn't actually know that many poisons but she didn't have to let the witch know that. Chill blue eyes met and locked with bright gold. Kaslyn's expression was not hostile but her steady gaze clearly warned Morrigan that she was not going to be free to run roughshod over any of them. Sunset came before the ice melted and the witch dropped her eyes from the hunter's unblinking stare.

"How intriguing," Flemeth murmured.

While Morrigan recovered from her discomfiture, Kaslyn anxiously regarded the older woman and inquired, "Do you have any other advice for us, Asha'belannar?" After this, she knew, they would be on their own and Kaslyn had never been without an elder close by to ask for guidance.

"About the darkspawn?" Flemeth responded curiously.

"About anything, really," Kaslyn replied.

As if sensing the hunter's sincerity, Flemeth raised her chin and eyed the Dalish as she answered. "Other than darkspawn, the forest denizens will not give you much trouble. Morrigan will see you through the Wilds. As for the darkspawn, they are more cunning than they appear." Her gaze sharpened on the Dalish, "More important by far is the Archdemon. It is the core of this taint and while it lives, so does the Blight." Her demeanor became thoughtful, "This Teyrn Loghain is different. You must deal with the repercussions of his deeds before you can face the Archdemon … unless it finds you first." Her momentary levity faded and her enigmatic stare again captured elven eyes, "Remember, it's up to _you_ to destroy the Blight. Pray not for someone else to destroy it. It will _always_ nip at your heels."

"Or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," Kaslyn deadpanned softly.

Flemeth appeared shocked for a split-second then threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, you I like! You will do! Indeed you will!"

Kaslyn looked to Alistair and both silently agreed they were ready to depart.

Morrigan finally turned to Flemeth, "Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned-down hut."

"Bah," Flemeth barked cuttingly, "'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."

Morrigan was clearly disconcerted and possibly somewhat hurt as she awkwardly tried to respond, "I … A-All I meant was …."

"Yes, I know," Flemeth relented in a gentle voice then drolly urged, "Do try to have fun, dear."

Having no other reason to tarry any longer, Kaslyn nodded once respectfully to the old woman then grabbed her pack, slung it to her good shoulder, and waited expectantly for the others. Alistair pulled on his helmet, shouldered his own pack, and then gestured for Morrigan to lead the way. The dark-haired woman hesitated before she squared her shoulders and started determinedly walking away from her home. Kaslyn followed her and Alistair brought up the rear. At the point where the trail entered the forest, Morrigan paused briefly. Her chin dipped once towards her shoulder before she turned her eyes forward and proceeded resolutely down the path.


End file.
